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Francis  ParKman. 


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Tivvr        v^T        JLyx       vig      xgg- 


THE  OREGON  TRAIL  t 
BY  FRANCIS  PARK- 
WAN  


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NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL 

AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


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The  journey  which  the  following  narrative  de- 
scribes was  undertaken  on  the  writer's  part  with  a 
view  of  studying  the  manners  and  character  of 
Indians  in  their  primitive  state.  Although  in  the 
chapters  which  relate  to  them,  he  has  only  attempted 
to  sketch  those  features  of  their  wild  and  pictur- 
esque life  which  fell,  in  the  present  instance,  under 
his  own  eye,  yet  in  doing  so  he  has  constantly 
aimed  to  leave  an  impression  of  their  character 
correct  as  far  as  it  goes.  «  In  justifying  his  claim  to 
accuracy  on  this  point,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
advert  to  the  representations  given  by  poets  and 
novelists,  which,  for  the  most  part,  are  mere  cre- 
ations of  fancy.  The  Indian  is  certainly  entitled 
to  a  high  rank  among  savages,  but  his  good  quali- 
ties are  not  those  of  an  Uncas  or  an  Outalissi. 

The  sketches  were  originally  published  in  the 
"Knickerbocker  Magazine,"  commencing  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1847. 

Boston,  February  15,  1849. 


m 


"  Let  him  who  crawls  enamor'd  of  decay, 
Cling  to  bis  coach,  and  sicken  years  away ; 
Heave  his  thick  breath,  and  shake  his  palsied  head ; 
Ours — the  fresh  turf,  and  not  the  feveri^  bed.'" 

Byron. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Frontier i 

II.  Breaking  the  Ice lo 

III.  Fort  Leavenworth 21 

rv.  "Jumping  Off" 25 

V.  The  "Big  Blue" 38 

VI.  The  Platte  and  the  Desert    ....  58 

VII.  The  Buffalo 73 

VIII.  Taking  French  Leave 91 

IX.  Scenes  at  Fort  Laramie 109 

X.  The  War-parties 127 

XI.  Scenes  at  the  Camp 152 

XII.  Ill-luck 174 

XIII.  Hunting  Indians 182 

XIV.  The  Ogillallah  Village 209 

XV.  The  Hunting  Camp 233 

XVI.  The  Trappers 259 

XVII.  The  Black  Hills 276 

XVIII.  A  Mountain  Hunt 275 


vi 

CONTENTS. 

CHArt'KJt 
XIX. 

P.\SS.\GE   OF   THE    MOUNTAINS     . 

PAGS 

288 

XX. 

The  Lonely  Journey  .... 

307 

XXI. 

The  Pueblo  and  Bents  Fort 

330 

XXII. 

Tete  Rouge,  the  Volunteer 

339 

XXIII. 

Indl\n  Alarms 

344 

XXIV. 

The  Chase 

357 

XXV. 

The  Bltffalo-camp 

367 

XXVI. 

Dovra  the  Arkansas  .... 

385 

XXVII. 

The  Settlements 

404 

INTRODUCTION. 


In  no  branch  of  literature  during  the  century  just 
passed  have  American  writers  secured  such  widely 
recognized  distinction  as  in  history.  The  conflu- 
ence, early  in  the  century,  of  two  strong  currents 
of  intellectual  activity,  the  critical  spirit  and  method 
of  Wolf  and  Niebuhr,  and  the  sympathetic  con- 
templation of  the  past,  its  monuments  and  life,  in- 
spired by  the  genius  of  Chateaubriand  and  Scott, 
gave  a  powerful  impetus  to  historical  research,  and 
invested  with  a  romantic  charm  times  and  peoples 
which  to  the  eighteenth  century  seemed  equally  de- 
void of- interest  and  instruction.  In  consequence 
of  the  discovery  of  new  sources  and  the  more  pene- 
trating and  fruitful  study  of  the  old,  the  mass  of  ex- 
isting historical  literature  rapidly  became  antiquated, 
and  the  whole  field  of  history  stood  ready  for  fresh 
exploration.  The  spirit  and  method  of  the  new 
scholarship  were  soon  communicated  to  the  United 
States  by  such  men  as  Ticknor,  Everett,  Bancroft, 
and  others  who  returned  from  study  at  Gottingen, 
and  the  new  historical  movement  in  Europe  was 
hardly  in  full  swing,  in  the  second  decade  of  the 
century,  before  the  younger  generation  of  literary 
men  in  this  country  fell  into  line,  and,  one  after  an- 
other, offered  to  the  world  historical  narratives  that 
without  misgiving  could  be  ranked  with  the  work  of 
Ranke,  Raumer,  Thierry,  or  Guizot.  The  achieve- 
ments of  Irving,  Prescott,  Ticknor,  Bancroft,  and 
Motley  cannot  but  seem  surprising  if  one  compares 


S5^4- 


jr  OL  STAGTE  COI^^ 


Vm  i:,-TRODCCTION. 

our  contemporary  barrenness  in  the  allied  fields  of 
Fhilasophy  and  Economics. 

11^  opportunity  was,  in  &ct,  unique.  The  com- 
plete renovation  in  historical  studies  forced  European 
scholars  to  b^^  again  at  the  b^inning,  and  Ameri- 
cans could  enter  the  competition  on  an  equality'  with 
them.  The  pubhcation.  for  example,  of  Navar- 
lete's  documents  made  Robertson  obsolete,  and 
opened  the  way  for  Irving  to  write  his  Columbus 
tnthout  fearing  the  advent  of  any  rival  with  su- 
periOT  resources.  Fresh  fix>ni  his  studies  in  Gottin- 
gen.  and  from  contact  with  the  best  minds  in  Eng- 
land and  France,  Ticknor  could  with  e({ual  confi- 
dence rear  the  solid  &bric  of  his  History  of  Spanish 
Lilanature.  In  like  manner.  Bancroft,  trained  in 
history  and  philosophy  in  the  best  German  uni- 
versities, brought  a  greater  breadth  of  knowledge  to 
bear  upon  die  story  of  the  English  Colonies  than 
had  before  been  b^towed  on  such  a  theme  by  an 
F-nglish  wrriter.  Prescott.  too,  fortunate  in  his 
wealth,  enlisted  in  his  senice  to  coUect  material 
several  of  the  most  accomplished  scholars  in 
Europe,  and  wore  their  contributions  to  his  store 
into  a  narrative  which  for  literary  charm  none  of 
them  could  equaL  Then,  following  his  Spaniards 
to  the  New  World,  in  the  colli^on  of  European 
ci\'ilization  with  the  ancient  culture  of  Mexico  and 
Peru,  he  laid  hold  of  two  of  the  most  dtamatic  inci- 
dents in  all  history.  In  the  meantime  die  long 
panorama  of  the  life  in  die  northern  forests,  of  the 
clash  of  French  and  English,  <rf  ftir-trader  and  set- 
der,  and  both  with  die  Indian,  had  been  unfolded 
by  Cooper  in  a  series  of  romances  that  carried  his 
name  and  &miliarized  his  theme  throughout  the 
ci\-ilized  world. 

These  examples  naturally  turned  the  minds  of 
young  men  of  literary  ambitions  toward   history. 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

Such  was  the  effect  on  Motley  and  Parkman,  the 
most  distinguished  successors  of  Irving  and  Pres- 
cott.  Motley  was  drawn  by  Prescott's  succeajlinto 
the  European  field,  and  chose  for  his  life-work  the 
history  of  the  struggle  of  the  Dutch  against  Spanish 
rule.  Parkman,  on  the  other  hand,  under  the  spell 
of  Cooper,  and  hardly  less  fascinated  by  Thierry's 
portrayal  of  the  movements  of  contending  races  in 
his  No7inan  Conquest,  found,  in  undertaking  a 
companion  picture  to  Prescott'  s  Conquest  of  Mexico 
and  Peru,  the  opportunity  to  reconcile  indulgence 
in  his  profound  love  of  wild  nature  with  the  most 
conscientious  elTolT'to  give  an  adequate  historical 
setting  to  the  drama  of  the  forest,  with  whiclvthe 
novelist  had  delighted  both  hemispheres.     '^ 

For  the  details  of  Parkman' s  life  the  reader  must 
be  referred  to  the  recent  biography  by  a  friend  of 
his  later  years,  Mr.  Charles  H.  Farnham,  which 
contains  his  autobiography  and  considerable  extracts 
from  his  diaries  and  letters,  and  from  such  of  his 
minor  writings  as  throw  light  on  his  life  and 
opinions  ;  to  the  admirable  "  Memoir  "  of  his  college 
classmate  and  life-long  friend,  Mr.  Edward  Wheel- 
wright, in  the  first  volume  of  the  Proceedings  of  the 
Colonial  Society  of  Massachusetts  ;  and  for  the  rev- 
elation of  character  to  Parkman' s  novel,  Vassal 
Algzton. 

<^H^e  was  bom  in  Boston,  of  parents  of  New  Eng- 
lanH  ancestry,  September  i6,  1823.  His  father,  the 
Rev.  Francis  Parkman,  was  for  many  years  a  promi- 
nent Unitarian  clergyman.  The  boyhood  of  the 
historian  revealed  the  dominant  tastes  of  his  later 
life.  Studious  at  school,  and  especially  interested  in 
poetn.'  and  in  acquiring  a  varied  command  over  his 
fhoniertomfwe,  in  vacation  he  spent  his  time  in  the 
_\viiads_and_i.n  woodland  sports.  Later,  in  college, 
where  he  was  a~  mernBef  oFthe  Harvard   class  of 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

1 844,  these  two  lines  of  activity  absorbed  his  ener- 
gies, and  as  early  as  his  sophomore  year,  when 
only  eighteen,  he  had  chosen  history  as  his  life- 
work,  and  selected  as  his  particular  subject  one  in 
which  his  dominant  tastes  could  both  be  gratified  to 
the  full:  "'The  Old  French  War '—that  is,  the 
war  that  ended  in  the  Conquest  of  Canada — for  here, 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  forest-drama  was  more 
stirring  and  the  forest-stage  more  thronged  with  ap- 
propriate actors  than  in  any  other  passage  of  our 
history.  It  was  not  till  some  years  later  that  I  en- 
larged the  plan  to  include  the  whole  course  of  the 
American  conflict  between  France  and  England,  or, 
in  other  words,  the  history  of  the  American  forest  ; 
for  this  was  the  light  in  which  I  regarded  it.  My 
theme  fascinated  me,  and  I  was  haunted  with  wil- 
derness-image's''day  and  night." 

No  one  of  our  American  historians  determined 
upon  his  career  and  selected  his  field  so  early  in  life, 
and  no  one  of  them  made  so  intelligent  and  broadly 
planned  a  preparation  for  his  chosen  work.  Irving 
knew  Spain  and  Spaniards,  but  could  not  know  the 
primitive  inhabitants  of  the  West  Indies,  nor  did  he 
follow  the  track  of  Columbus  ;  Prescott'  s  knowledge 
of  Spain,  as  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  was  derived 
wholly  from  books  or  conversation  ;  Bancroft's 
tastes  did  not  lead  him  to  study  the  frontier  of  his 
time  where  could  be  observed  with  slight  variation 
the  chief  phases  of  colonial  hfe  ;  Motley  knew  his 
Netherlands  and  numbered  many  Netherlanders 
among  his  friends,  but  he  never  saw  Spain  and  ap- 
parently did  not  regard  a  first-hand  study  of  the 
Spanish  character  as  a  part  of  his  preparation. 
Parkman,  on  the  other  hand,  while  he  was  not  less 
assiduous  in  the  pursuit  and  analysis  of  documents, 
devoted  extraordinary  pains  to  the  personal  study 
of  the  actual  phenomena  with  which  he  had  to  deal. 


INTRODUCTION.  XI 

/  The  scene  of  action  was  the  frontier  and  the  for- 
/  est ;  the  actors  :  French  and  EngHsh  adventurers 
/  and  explorers,  bush-rangers  and  pioneers,  mission- 
\  aries  and  wild  Indians.  Realizing  the  relative  per- 
\  manence  of  these  types — that  frontier  life  and  colo- 
nial life  were  essentially  the  same,  and  that  an  identi- 
cal environment  acting  on  the  same  human  factors 
would  produce  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tur)-  substantially  what  existed  in  the  eighteenth — 
Parkman  not  only  systematically  studied  these 
phases  of  human  character  where  they  could  be 
found,  unsophisticated  by  modern  ideas,  but  he 
lived  with  them.  /  His  most  remarkable  experience 
in  this  course  of^elf-training  is  recounted  in  The 
Oregon  Trail)  He  had  already  familiarized  him- 
self with  the  \vilder  parts  of  New  England,  and  dur- 
ing his  sojourn  in  I^ome,  in.  1844,  he  had  spent  some 
days  in  a  convent  of  the  Passionist  Fathers  to  see 
face  to  face  the  monk  and  oevotee,  and  now  he  re- 
solved to  study  the  real  Indian  neither  bettered  nor 
spoiled  by  civilization. 

The  St.  Louis,  too,  of  1846,  would  still  preserve 
not  a  little  that  was  like  the  Montreal  of  1756.  Fort 
Laramie  would  reproduce  in  some  essentials  the 
Machillimackinac  of  Pontiac's  time,  and  in  the 
Oregon  pioneers  could  be  seen  the  counterparts  of 
the  sturdy  settlers  of  the  forests  of  Pennsylvania  and 
Ohio  ;  the  French  half-breed  trappers  and  guides 
were  still  the  same. 

The  Indian  literature  of  the  day  was  prolific,  and 
the  most  popular  author  in  the  country-  had  made 
three  notable  contributions  to  it.  Yet  The  Oregon 
Trail  differs  essentially  from  Irving"  s  Tour  on  the 
Prairies,  Astoria,  or  The  Adi'entures  of  Captain 
Bonnei'il/e,  for  it  not  only  records  the  vivid  im- 
pressions by  a  most  alert  observer  of  a  bygone 
phase  of  life,  but  it  is,  in  addition,  a  fragment  of 


XU  INTRODUCTION. 

tke  autobiography  of  an  historian  enjoying  an 
almost  unique  experience.  For  to  Parkman  the 
[whole  excursion  was  a  journey  into  the  past.  Each 
/successive  stage  took  him  not  merely  farther  west, 
but  back  in  time. 

He  was  on  the  prairies  about  five  months  in  all, 
about  five  weeks  of  which  he  spent  in  a  village  of 
the  Ogillallah  Sioux.  Qiis  travels  extended  as  far 
west  as  the  Black  Hills  in  Wyoming,  following  in 
part  the  Oregon  Trail,  then  turning  toward  the 
south,  he  went  past  Pike's  Peak  to  Pueblo,  and 
homeward  in  part  by  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. ) 

Powwows,  war-dances,  feasts,  buffaio-hunting, 
Oregon  trains,  Santa  Fe  caravans,  and  companies 
of  frontier  troops  on  the  march  to  New  Mexico  :  all 
the  varied  spectacle  of  a  life  now  gone  forever  in 
this  country  passed  before  his  eyes  and  was  indeli- 
bly printed  upon  his  mind.  The  influence  of  this 
experience  can  be  traced  throughout  all  his  works, 
and  in  his  latest  volumes  he  recalls  incidents  of  this 
summer.  By  a  strange  fatality,  however,  a  course 
of  life  that  has  restored  many  invalids  to  health 
nearly  cost  him  his  life,  and  bequeathed  him  an 
accumulation  of  infirmities  which  attended  him  to 
the  grave.  He  was  taken  ill  soon  after  leaving  St. 
Louis,  and  then,  and  later  on  during  renewed  at- 
tacks of  the  malady,  when  he  should  have  rested, 
a  seemingly  imperative  necessity  of  continued  exer- 
tion overstrained  a  system  by  nature  delicate  and 
high-strung.  Thenceforth  he  had  to  work  impris- 
oned by  diseases  and  all  but  entire '  loss  of  sight. 

Upon  his  return,  while  in  search  of  health,  he 
dictated  from  his  notes  and  diary  the  story  of  the 
summer  to  his  companion  in  the  journey,  Quincy 
Adams  Shaw,  and  the  publication  of  it  began  in 
the  Knickerbocker  Magazine  in  February,  1847",' 
with  the  title,  ' '  The  Oregon  Trail,    or  a  Summer 


/ 


INTRODUCTION.  XIU 

Journey  Out  of  Bounds."  It  was  republished  in 
book  form  in  184.9,  ^hen  the  pubhsher,  availing 
himself  of  the  California  excitement  to  catch  the 
eye,  enlarged  the  title  into  The  California  a?td 
Oregon  Trail,  being  Skelehes  of  Prairie  and  Rocky 
Mountain  Life.  The  secondary  title  precisely  de- 
scribes the  contents  of  the  book,  and  the  original 
name,  "  Oregon  Trail,"  must  have  been  selected  in 
i8;t2-^©f- the  same  reasons  which  led  the  pubhsher, 
m  1849,  to  add  "  California"  to  the  title-page.  As 
far  as  the  contents  go,  the  name  "  Santa  Fe  Trail " 
would  have  been  equally  appropriate. 

Before  the  appearance  of  The  Oregon  Trail  in 
book  form  Parkman  began  the  composition  of  the 
Conspiracy  of  Pontiac.  In  the  midst  of  obstacles, 
always  apparently  insurmountable,  and  for  long 
stretches  actually  so,  with  heroic  fortitude  he  kept 
at  work  when  most  men  would  have  given  up  in 
despair.  For  many  years  he  was  unable  to  read 
or  write  for  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  time,  and 
the  first  part  of  Pontiac  was  written  at  the  rate  of 
six  lines  a  day.  His  courage  did  not  fail,  and  after 
three  years  of  intermittent  labor  the  completed 
work  was  offered  to  the  public  (185 1). 

With  wise  appreciation  of  his  own  powers  and 
of  the  limitations  under  which  he  labored  he  had 
tried  his  hand  on  an  episode  of  his  main  theme, 
the  final  struggle  of  the  Indian,  after  the  collapse 
of  the  power  of  France,  to  roll  back  the  advancing 
tide  of  English  civilization.  The  story  of  Pontiac 
required  neither  the  mass  of  reading  nor  the  critical 
insight  and  ripened  judgment  which  the  later  works 
demanded.  On  the  other  hand,  the  range  of  action 
from  Philadelphia  to  Mackinac,  the  varied  scenes 
or  frontier  life  and  warfare,  gave  an  ample  canvas 
for  vivid  description,  stamped  with  the  fresh  im- 
pressions of  his  western  travels  and  recent  sojourn 


)- 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

among  the  Sioux.  In  the  eariier  chapters,  as  an 
introduction  to  his  subject,  he  takes  a  broad  survey 
of  the  whole  history  of  New  France,  sketching  in 
outHne  what  was  to  be  his  hfe-work. 

In  the  thirteen  years  that  follow  he  labored  on. 
under  the  same  cruel  shackles,  varj'ing  severer 
studies  by  gardening  and  by  writing  his  only  novel. 
Vassal  Morton  {\Z'^6).  Of  Vassal  Morton  '\\.  is  suf- 
ficient to  say  that  its  chief  importance  to-day  lies 
in  its  reflection  of  Parkman's  character.  In  parts 
it  is  a  thinly  disguised  self-portrait.  Parkman 
mentions  in  several  of  his  prefaces  his  disabilities 
in  a  purely  objective  way,  just  as  he  recorded  the 
other  conditions  of  his  work  ;  in  the  narratives 
there  is,  however,  no  odor  of  the  sick-room,  no 
feebleness,  the  artist's  all-embracing  memory  and 
constructive  imagination  transport  him  to  the  woods, 
and  the  strain  of  the  effort  is  betrayed  only  by  a 
certain  tenseness  of  style,  but  in  Vassal  Morton 
he  let  himself  out,  and,  under  the  mask  of  Morton's 
agony  in  his  dungeon,  his  own  sufferings  are  re- 
ivealed. 
"^X  The  novel  is  full  of  sharply  drawn  portraits,  vivid 
descriptions  of  nature,  and  life-like  pictures  of  man- 
ners. It  is  a  little  melodramatic  in  plot,  rather  too 
brilliant  in  conversation,  and  unreal  at  critical  junc- 
tures, but  it  is  interesting  and  hardly  deserves  ob- 
livion. Parkman  did  not  include  it  in  his  works, 
and  is  said  not  to  have  liked  to  hear  it  mentioned. 
One  cannot  help  feeling  that  as  he  attained  distinc- 
tion he  felt  a  certain  shame  at  having  betrayed  his 
feelings,  even  in  that  indirect  fashion,  and  recov- 
ered his  consistency  of  stoicism  by  ignoring  this 
single  lapse. 

In  the  Introduction  to  The  Pioneers  of  France  in 
the  Ne'w  World  (1865)  Parkman  announces  his  plan 
of  a  series  to  be  devoted  to  ' '  the  attempt  of  Feudal 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

ism,  Monarchy,  and  Rome  to  master  a  continent, 
where,  at  this  hour,  half  a  million  bayonets  are  vin- 
dicating the  ascendency  of  a  regulated  freedom." 
After  contrasting  in  a  few  paragraphs  of  compressed 
but  richly  colored  description  the  contending  civ- 
ilizations, he  declares  the  method  of  historical  com- 
position which  he  has  adopted  :  his  aim  ' '  was, 
while  scrupulously  and  rigorously  adhering  to  the 
truth  of  facts,  to  animate  them  with  the  life  of  the 
past,  and  so  far  as  might  be,  clothe  the  skeleton 
with  flesh.  Faithfulness  to  the  truth  of  histor\-  in- 
volves far  more  than  a  research,  however  patient 
and  scrupulous,  into  special  facts.  The  narrator 
must  seek  to  imbue  himself  with  the  life  and  spirit 
of  the  time.  He  must  study  events  in  their  bear- 
ings near  and  remote  ;  in  the  character,  habits,  and 
manners  of  those  who  took  part  in  them.  He  must 
be,  as  it  were,  a  sharer  or  a  spectator  of  the  action 
he  describes." 

In  rapid  succession,  following  The  Pioneers,  came 
The  Jeszafs,  in  1 867  ;  The  Discovery  of  the  Great 
West,  in  1869  ;  The  Old  Regime  in  Canada,  in 
1874;  Frontenac,  in  1877;  Montcalm  and  Wolfe, 
in  tvvo  volumes,  in  1884  ;  and  A  Half  Century  of 
Conflict,  also  in  two  volumes,  in  1892,' 

In  addition  to  these  labors,  no  mean  achievement 
for  the  most  vigorous  and  unhampered  mind.  Park- 
man  found  time  to  write  a  considerable  body  of 
magazine  articles  and  reviews,  to  revise  in  suc- 
cession the  earlier  volumes  of  the  series,  and  in  the 
case  of  The  Discoz'ery  of  the  Great  West,  to  recon- 
struct the  work  in  the  light  of  the  abundant  ma- 
terials on  La  Salle  which  were  inaccessible  to  him 
when  it  was  originally  written. 

A  detailed  criticism  of  these  works  will  hardly  be 
expected  in  this  place,  yet  something  may  well  be 
said  as  to  their  range  and  distinctive  features. 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

I     Sooie  of  the  vdnmes,  owing  to  the  nature  of  the 
isal^ect,  aic  latlier  a  collection  of  detached  narra- 
1  thres  than  a  connected  story.      In  T/ie  Pioneers,  for 
f  rrample.  the  two  main  themes  are  the  livalr)'  of  the 
f  French  and  Spaniards  for  Florida,  and  the  explora- 
tions di.  Champlain,  tmt  both  parts  are  appropriately 
introduced  bjr  vivid  sketches  of  earlier  voyages  and 
exploiations.  such  as  those  of  de  Soto  and  \'erra- 
zano.     To  TJu  Jesuiis  is  prefixed  a  con^pact  mono- 
graph on  the  Algonquin   Indians,  which  saves  the 
nanadves  in  the  maiB  body  of  the  work  from  being 
overloaded  with  explanatory  commenL     Most  varied 
of  all  is  The  Half  Cemiiay  of  Conflict,  in  which  the 
reader  ranges  fimn  Maine  to  Louisiana,  and  to  the 
exploration  of  the  western  prairies,     it  is  in  these 
last  vcdnmes.  in  those  on  Momicabm.  and  Wolfe  and 
in  Fnmiamc,  that  the  history  of  the  English  Colo- 
nies comes  in  fiH"  ^>ecial  consideration. 

Parkman  bdoi^^  to  the  narrative  school  of  his- 
torians, and  chose  to  picture  the  past  rather  than  to 
reason  about  it.  In  his  conception  of  the  great 
drama  of  two  rival  and  diverse  ci^■ili^ations  contend- 
ing for  the  mastay  of  the  New  World,  in  his  near- 
ness to  the  action,  and  his  personal  exploration  of 
the  scene,  and  not  least  in  the  varied  charm  of  his 
stXKy.  Paikman  is  the  Herodotus  .of  our  Western 
World. 

Yet  he  does  not  ahogedier  refrain  from  drawing 
the  lesson  for  the  politician  w  renounce  philosophiz- 
ii^.  and  in  one  erf  his  volumes.  The  Old  Regime  in 
Camada,  he  has  produced  an  admirable  piece  cf  in- 
stitutional or  social  historj^  an  examination,  as  he 
called  it,  of  "the  political  and  social  machine," 
which  is  a  fit  counterpart  and  supplement  to  de 
Tocqueville's  Ancien  Rigittu  en  Fran£e. 

The  most  distinctive  quality*  of  Parkman' s  narra- 
tk^'c^  jg  p^YliiiTiifi*"*^*'*"^"'"""'  actionals  set  in  a  scene 


INTRODUCTION.  XVll 

irtistically  reproduced  from  the  author's  careful 
observation.  Knowing  his  human  agents  from  per- 
sonal study  of  the  type  as  well  as  of  their  literary 
memorials,  sensitive  to  all  the  varied  aspects  of 
nature,  and  familiar  with  each  locality,  he  visualizes 
the  whole  action  with  extraordinary  vividness.  It 
passes  his  eyes  like  a  panorama.  The  natural  scene 
plays  no  such  part  in  any  other  historical  writer, 
and  the  search  for  such  exquisite  pictures  of  wild 
nature  in  Ameriea'as  abound  in  his  pages  would  not 
be  an  easy  one  even  in  our  voluminous  literature  of 
outdoor  life  and  nature-study.  In  illustration  of 
this  artistic  gift  his  descriptions  of  such  widely 
diverse  scenes  as  a  southern  swamp,  a  prairie-river 
in  summer-time,  or  a  Canadian  winter  may  be  given. 
The  first  two  are  from  The  Pioneers  ;  the  last,  from 
La  Salle.  "The  deep  swamp,  where,  out  of  the 
black  and  root-encumbered  slough,  rise  the  huge 
buttressed  trunks  of  the  southern  cypress,  the  gray 
Spanish  moss  drooping  from  every  bough  and  twig, 
wrapping  its  victims  like  a  drapery  of  tattered  cob- 
webs, and  slowly  draining  away  their  life  ;  for  even 
plants  devour  each  other,  and  play  their  silent  parts 
in  the  universal  tragedy  of  nature."  "Here  the 
self-exiled  company  were  soon  besieged  by  the 
rigors  of  the  Canadian  winter.  The  rocks,  the 
shores,  the  pine  trees,  the  solid  floor  of  the  frozen 
river,  all  alike  were  blanketed  in  snow,  beneath  the 
keen,  cold  rays  of  the  dazzling  sun."  "  They  glided 
calmly  down  the  tranquil  stream.  At  night,  the 
bivouac,  the  canoes  inverted  on  the  bank,  the  flicker- 
ing fire,  the  meal  of  bison-flesh  or  venison,  the 
evening  pipes,  and  slumber  beneath  the  stars  ;  and 
when  in  the  morning  they  embarked  again,  the  mist 
hung  on  the  river  like  a  bridal  veil  ;  then  melted 
before  the  sun,  till  the  glassy  water  and  the  languid 
woods  basked  breathless  in  the  sultry  glare. 

B 


%vm  INTRODUCTION. 

To  the  study  of  human  character  and  motives 
Parkman  was  drawn  from  his  youth,  and  his  pages 
are  filled  with  sketches  and  portraits  into  the  com- 
position of,*iKA  went  not  only  general  knowledge 
of  Jwiman  nature,  tut  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
"Individual,  obtained  by  entering  into  his  life  and 
looking  out  upon  the  world  with  his  eyes.  That  he 
achieved  high  success  in  delineating  t\'pes  of  charac- 
ter and  ideals  far  different  from  his  own  is  evinced 
by  the  number  of  French  Canadian  scholars  and 
Catholics  that  he  numbered  among  his  friends  and 
admirers.  Not  that  they  were  wholly  satisfied  with 
the  story  of  the  long  effort  to  plant  a  new  France  in 
North  America,  orthodox  and  loyal,  that  came  from 
the  clear-headed  New  Englander,  the  Puritan 
rationalist,  and  aristocratic  republican,  for  t\-pes  of 
men  so  divergent  cannot  write  each  other's  history 
altogether  acceptably  ;  but  to  win  each  other's 
respect  and  to  spur  each  other  on  in  the  noble  race 
for  truth  was  no  mean  achievement. 

In  England  Parkman  is  not  infrequently  accorded 
the  first  place  among  American  historical  writers 
for  his  rare  combination  of  exact  research  with  a 
narrative  st^le  so  full  of  life  and  poetic  beaut)'.  On 
the  Continent,  however,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  the 
remoteness  of  his  theme,  and  to  the  fact  that 
Frenchmen  could  hardly  be  expected  to  find  in  the 
story  of  failure  and  loss  the  same  interest  that  the 
story  of  triumph  inspires  in  the  Englishman,  Park- 
man  has  never  attained  the  popularity  which  came 
to  In-ing,  Prescott,  Bancroft,  and  Motley.  Only 
The  Pioneers  and  The  Jesuits  have  been  translated 
into  French,  and  only  these  tsvo  and  The  Old 
Regime  into  German. 

It  is  perhaps  too  soon  to  attempt  an  estimate  of 
the  probable  permanence  of  Parkman' s  fame,  yet 
one  or  two  factors  in  the  problem  may  be  indicated- 


INTRODUCTION.  xix 

The  breadth  of  his  preparation,  his  occasional 
preservation  of  oral  tradition,  his  personal  knowl- 
edge of  wild  life  and  the  American  Indian,  such  as 
no  successor  can  ever  obtain,  will  always  give  his 
narratives  in  some  measure  the  character  of  sources. 
The  development  of  the  science  of  ethnology,  for 
example,  has  antiquated  Prescott's  Mexico  and 
Peru,  except  as  a  charming  reproduction  of  the 
impressions  and  exaggeration  of  the  Spanish  his- 
torians of  the  Conquest  ;  but  Parkman  grew  up 
with  the  scientific  study  of  American  ethnology, 
was  one  of  its  promoters,  and  its  results  are  in 
large  measure  embodied  in  his  work.  Making  as 
conscientious  an  effort  as  ever  hi-storian  did  by 
means  of  documents  to  understand  and  reclothe  the 
past  with  the  habiliments  of  life,  his  success  will 
prove  of  a  more  permanent  kind  than  that  of 
Motley  or  Prescott,  because  of  his  completer  equip- 
ment for  a  realistic  grasp  of  that  past  which  he  was 
so  near  and  which  he  caught  as  it  faded  away  for- 
ever. Finally,  with  the  growth  of  Canada  and  of 
the  west,  the  number  of  people  for  whom  Park- 
man's  histories  are  the  epic  of  the  founders  of  the 
State  is  ever  increasing. 

It  is  hardly  rash,  then,  in  view  of  these  consider- 
ations and  of  the  rare  and  varied  charm  of  his 
narrative  to  conclude  that  for  a  far  longer  period 
than  is  likely  to  be  the  fortune  of  Prescott,  Motley, 
or  Bancroft,  the  work  of  Francis  Parkman  will  be 
proof 

"  'gainst  the  tooth  of  time 
And  razure  of  oblivion." 

Edward  Gaylord  Bourne. 


THE  CALIFORNIA 
AND   OREGON   TRAIL. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    FRONTIER. 

"  Away,  away  from  men  and  towns 
To  the  silent  wilderness." — SHELLEY. 

-Last  ^pjios*-  I-?46^  was  a  busy  season  in  the  city 
of  St.  Louis.  Not  only  were  emigrants  from  every 
part  of  the  country  preparing  for  the  journey  to 
Oregon  and  California,  but  an  unusual  number  of 
traders  were  making  ready  their  wagons  and  outfits 
for  Santa  Fe.  Many  of  the  emigrants,  especially 
of  those  bound  for  California,  were  persons  of 
wealth  and  standing.  The  hotels  were  crowded, 
and  the  gunsmiths  and  saddlers  were  kept  con- 
stantly at  work  in  providing  arms  and  equipments 
for  the  different  parties  of  travellers.  Almost  every 
day  steamboats  were  leaving  the  levee  and  passing 
up  the  Missouri,  crowded  with  passengers  on  their 
way  to  the  frontier. 

In  one  of  these,  the  "Radnor,"  since  snagged 
and  lost,  my  friend  and  relative,  Quincy  A.  Shaw, 
and  myself,  left  St.  Louis  on  the^  twenty-eighth  of 
April,  on  a  tour  of  curiosity  and  arhiisement  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  .  The  boat  was  loaded  until  the 
water  broke   alternately   over  her  guards.       Her 


A^i- 


W.  C  State  College 


2  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

upper  deck  was  covered  with  large  wagons  of  a 
peculiar  form,  for  the  Santa  Fe  trade,  and  her  hold 
was  crammed  with  goods  for  the  same  destination. 
There  were  also  the  equipments  and  provisions  of 
a  party  of  Oregon  emigrants,  a  band  of  mules  and 
horses,  piles  of  saddles  and  harness,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  nondescript  articles,  indispensable  on  the 
prairies.  Almost  hidden  in  this  medley  one  might 
have  seen  a  small  French  cart,  of  the  sort  very 
appropriately  called  a  "mule-killer"  beyond  the 
frontiers,  and  not  far  distant  a  tent,  together  with  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  boxes  and  barrels.  The 
whole  equipage  was  far  from  prepossessing  in  its 
appearance  ;  yet,  such  as  it  was,  it  was  destined  to 
a  long  and  arduous  journey,  on  which  the  persever- 
ing reader  will  accompany  it. 

The  passengers  on  board  the  ' '  Radnor ' '  corre- 
sponded with  her  freight.  In  her  cabin  were  Santa 
Fe  traders,  gamblers,  speculators,  and  adventurers 
of  various  descriptions,  and  her  steerage  was  crowded 
with  Oregon  emigrants,  "  mountain  men,"  negroes, 
and  a  party  of  Kansas  Indians,  who  had  been  on  a 
visit  to  St.  Louis. 

Thus  laden,  the  boat  struggled  upward  for  seven  or 
eight  days  against  the  rapid  current  of  the  Missouri, 
grating  upon  snags,  and  hanging  for  two  or  three 
hours  at  a  time  upon  sand-bars.  We  entered  the 
mouth  of  the  Missouri  in  a  drizzling  rain,  but  the 
weather  soon  became  clear,  and  showed  distinctly 
the  broad  and  turbid  river,  with  its  eddies,  its  sand- 
bars, its  ragged  islands,  and  forest-covered  shores. 
The  Missouri  is  constantly  changing  its  course  ; 
wearing  away  its  banks  on  one  side,  while  it  forms 
new  ones  on  the  other.  Its  channel  is  shifting  con- 
tinually. Islands  are  formed,  and  then  washed 
away  ;  and  while  the  old  forests  on  one  side  are  un- 
dermined and  swept  off,  a  young  growth  springs  up 


THE  FRONTIER.  3 

from  the  new  soil  upon  the  other.  With  all  these 
changes,  the  water  is  so  charged  with  mud  and  sand 
that  it  is  perfectly  opaque,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
deposits  a  sediment  an  inch  thick  in  the  bottom 
of  a  tumbler.  The  river  was  now  high  ;  but  when 
we  descended  in  the  autumn  it  was  fallen  very  low, 
and  all  the  secrets  of  its  treacherous  shallows  were 
exposed  to  view.  It  was  frightful  to  see  the  dead 
and  broken  trees,  thick-set  as  a  military'  abattis, 
firmly  imbedded  in  the  sand,  and  all  pointing  down 
stream,  ready  to  impale  any  unhappy  steamboat 
that  at  high  water  should  pass  over  that  dangerous 
ground. 

In  five  or  six  days  we  began  to  see  signs  of  the 
great  (western  movement  that  was  then  taking 
place.  V Parties  of  emigrants,  with  their  tents  and 
wagons,  would  be  encamped  on  open  spots  near 
the  bank,  on  their  way  to  the  common  rendezvous 
at  Independence.  On  a  rainy  day,  near  sunset,  we 
reached  the  landing  of  this  place,  which  is  situated 
some  miles  from  the  river,  on  the  extreme  frontier 
of  Missouri.  The  scene  was  characteristic,  for  here 
were  represented  at  one  view  the  most  remarkable 
features  of  this  wild  and  enterprising  region.  On 
the  muddy  shore  stood  some  thirty  or  forty  dark 
slavish-looking  Spaniards,  gazing  stupidly  out  from 
beneath  their  broad  hats.  They  were  attached  to 
one  of  the  Santa  Fe  companies,  whose  wagons 
were  crowded  together  on  the  banks  above.  In  the 
midst  of  .Jhese,  crouching  over  a  smouldering  fire, 
was  a  group  of  Indians  belonging  to  a  remote 
Mexican  tribe.  One  or  two  French  hunters  from 
the  mountains,  with  their  long  hair  and  buckskin 
dresses,  were  looking  at  the  boat  ;  and  seated  on  a 
log  close  at  hand  were  three  men  with  rifles  lying 
across  their  knees.  The  foremost  of  these,  a  tall, 
strong  figure,  with  a  clear  blue  eye  and  an  open,  in- 


4  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

telligent  face,  might  very  well  represent  that  race 
of  restless  and  intrepid  pioneers  whose  axes  and 
rifles  have  opened  a  path  from  the  Alleghanies  to 
the  western  prairies.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Oregon, 
probably  a  more  congenial  field  to  him  than  any 
that  now  remained  on  this  side  the  great  plains. 

Early  on  the  next  morning  we  reached  Kansas, 
about  five  hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Missouri.  Here  we  landed,  and  leaving  our  equip- 
ments in  charge  of  my  good  friend  Colonel  Chick, 
whose  log-house  was  the  substitute  for  a  tavern,  we 
set  out  in  a  wagon  for  Westport,  where  we  hoped 
to  procure  mules  and  horses  for  the  journey. 

It  was  a  remarkably  fresh  and  beautiful  May 
morning.  The  rich  and  luxuriant  woods  through 
which  the  miserable  road  conducted  us  were  lighted 
by  the  bright  sunshine  and  enlivened  by  a  multitude 
of  birds.  We  overtook  on  the  way  our  late  fellow- 
^  travellers,  the  Kansas  Indians,  who,  adorned  with 
all  their  finery,  were  proceeding  homeward  at  a 
round  pace  ;  and  whatever  they  might  have  seemed 
on  board  the  boat,  they  made  a  very  striking  and 
picturesque  feature  in  the  forest  landscape. 

Westport  was  full  of  Indians,  whose  little  shaggy 
ponies  were  tied  by  dozens  along  the  houses  and 
fences.  Sacs  and  Foxes,  with  shaved  heads  and 
painted  faces,  Shawanoes  and  Delawares,  fluttering 
in  calico  frocks  and  turbans,  Wyandots,  dressed  like 
white  men,  and  a  few  wretched  Kansas,  wrapped 
in  old  blankets,  were  strolling  about  the  streets  or 
lounging  in  and  out  of  the  shops  and  houses. 

As  1  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tavern,  I  saw  a  re- 
markable looking  person  coming  up  the  street.  He 
had  a  ruddy  face,  garnished  with  the  stumps  of  a 
bristly  red  beard  and  moustache  ;  on  one  side  of 
his  head  was  a  round  cap  with  a  knob  at  the  top, 
such  as  Scottish  laborers  sometimes  wear  ;  his  coat 


THE  FRONTIER.  5 

was  of  a  nondescript  form,  and  made  of  a  gray 
Scotch  plaid,  with  the  fringes  hanging  all  about  it ; 
he  wore  pantaloons  of  coarse  homespun  and  hob- 
nailed shoes  ;  and,  to  complete  his  equipment,  a 
little  black  pipe  was  stuck  in  one  corner  of  his 
mouth.  In  this  curious  attire,  I  recognized  Captain 
C.  of  the  British  army,  who,  with  his  brother  'an3^ 
Mr.  R.,  an  English  gentleman,  was  bound  on  a 
hunting  expedition  across  the  continent.  I  had 
seen  the  Captain  and  his  companions  at  St.  Louis. 
They  had  now  been  for  some  time  at  Westpoit, 
making  preparations  for  their  departure,  and  wait- 
ing for  a  reinforcement,  since  they  were  too  few  in 
number  to  attempt  it  alone.  They  might,  it  is  true. 
have  joined  some  of  the  parties  of  emigrants  who 
were  on  the  point  of  setting  out  for  Oregon  and 
Cahfornia  ;  but  they  professed  great  disinclination 
to  have  any  connection  with  the  ' '  Kentucky  fel- 
low.s.!ly 

The  Captain  now  urged  it  upon  us  that  we  should  ' 
join  forces  and  proceed  to  the  mountains  in  com- 
pany. Feeling  no  greater  partiality  for  the  society 
of  the  emigrants  than  they  did,  we  thought  the 
arrangement  an  advantageous  one,  and  consented 
to  it.  Our  future  fellow-travellers  had  installed 
themselves  in  a  httle  log-house,  where  we  found 
them  all  surrounded  by  saddles,  harness,  guns, 
pistols,  telescopes,  knives,  and  in  short,  their  com- 
plete appointments  for  the  prairie.  R.,  who  pro- 
fessed a  taste  for  natural  history,  .sat  at  a  table  .stuff- 
ing a  woodpecker  ;  the  brother  of  the  Captain,  who 
was  an  Irishman,  was  splicing  a  trail-rope  on  the 
floor,  as  he  had  been  an  amateur  sailor.  The  Cap- 
tain pointed  out,  with  much  comjilacency,  the  dif- 
ferent articles  of  their  outfit.  "You  see,"  said  he, 
"that  we  are  all  old  travellers.  I  am  convinced 
that  no  party  ever  went  upon  the  prairie  better  pro- 


6  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

vided."  The  hunter  whom  they  had  employed,  a 
surly  looking  Canadian,  named  Sorel,  and  their 
muleteer,  an  American  from  St.  Louis,  were  loung- 
ing about  the  building.  In  a  little  log-stable  close 
at  hand  were  their  horses  and  mules,  selected  by 
the  Captain,  who  was  an  excellent  judge. 

The  alliance  entered  into,  we  left  them  to  com- 
plete their  arrangements,  while  we  pushed  our  own 
to  all  convenient  speed.  The  emigrants,  for  whom 
our  friends  professed  such  contempt,  were  encamped 
on  the  prairie  about  eight  or  ten  miles  distant,  to  the 
number  of  a  thousand  or  more,  and  new  parties 
were  constantly  passing  out  from  Independence  to 
join  them.  They  were  in  great  confusion,  holding 
meetings,  passing  resolutions,  and  drawing  up  regu- 
lations, but  unable  to  unite  in  the  choice  of  leaders 
to  conduct  them  across  the  prairie.  Being  at  leisure 
one  day,  I  rode  over  to  Independence.  The  town 
was  crowded.  A  miJtitu3e  of  shops  had  sprung  up 
to  furnish  the  emigrants  and  Santa  Fe  traders  with 
necessaries  for  their  journey;  and  there  was  an  in- 
cessant hanmiering  and  banging  from  a  dozen 
blacksmiths'  sheds,  where  the  hea^^■  wagons  were 
being  repaired  and  the  horses  and  oxen  shod.  The 
streets  were  thronged  with  men,  horses,  and  mules. 
WTule  1  was  in  the  town,  a  train  of  emigrant  wagons 
from  Illinois  passed  through,  to  join  the  camp  on 
the  prairie,  and  stopped  in  the  principal  street.  A 
multitude  of  healthy  children's  faces  were  peeping 
out  from  under  the  covers  of  the  wagons.  Here 
and  there  a  buxom  damsel  was  seated  on  horseback, 
holding  over  her  sunburnt  £ace  an  old  umbrella  or  a 
parasol,'  once  gaudy  enough,  but  now  miserably 
feded.  The  men,  very-  sober-looking  countrjmen, 
stood  about  their  oxen  ;  and  as  I  passed  I  noticed 
three  old  fellows,  who,  with  their  long  whips  in  their 
hands,  were   zealously  discussing  the  doctrine  of 


THE   FRONTIER.  7 

regeneration.  The  emigrants,  however,  are  not  all 
of  this  stamp.  Among  them  are  some  of  the  vilest 
outcasts  in  the  country.  I  have  often  perplexed 
mvself  to  divine  the  various  motives  that  give  im- 
pulse to  this  strange  migration  ;  but  whatever  they 
may  be,  whether  an  insane  hope  of  a  better  con- 
dition in  life,  or  a  desire  of  shaking  off  restraints  of 
law  and  society,  or  mere  restlessness,  certain  it  is 
that  multitudes  bitterly  repent  the  journey,  and  after 
they  have  reached  the  land  of  promise,  are  happy 
enough  to  escape  from  it. 

In  the  course  of  seven  or  eight  days  we  had 
brought  our  preparations  near  to  a  close.  Mean- 
while our  friends  had  completed  theirs,  and  becom- 
ing tired  of  Westport,  they  told  us  that  they  would 
set  out  in  advance,  and  wait  at  the  crossing  of  the 
Kansas  till  we  should  come  up.  Accordingly  R. 
and  the  muleteer  went  forward  with  the  wagon  and 
tent,  while  the  Captain  and  his  brother,  together 
with  Sorel  and  a  trapper  named  Boisverd,  who  had 
joined  them,  followed  with  the  band  of  horses. 
The  commencement  of  the  journey  was  ominous, 
for  the  Captain  was  scarcely  a  mile  from  Westport, 
riding  along  in  state  at  the  head  of  his  party,  lead- 
ing his  intended  buffalo  horse  by  a  rope,  when  a 
tremendous  thunder-storm  came  on,  and  drenched 
them  all  to  the  skin.  They  hurried  on  to  reach  the 
place  about  seven  miles  off,  where  R.  was  to  have 
had  the  camp  in  readiness  to  receive  them.  But 
this  prudent  person,  when  he  saw  the  storm  ap- 
proaching, had  selected  a  sheltered  glade  in  the 
woods,  where  he  pitched  his  tent,  and  was  sipping 
a  comfortable  cup  of  coffee  while  the  Captain  gal- 
loped for  miles  beyond  through  the  rain  to  look  for 
him.  At  length  the  storm  cleared  away,  and  the 
sharp-eyed  trapper  succeeded  in  discovering  his 
tent  ;  R.  had  by  this  time  finished  his  coffee,  and 


8    .  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

was  seated  on  a  buffalo-robe  smoking  his  pipe.  The 
Captain  was  one  of  the  most  easy -tempered  men  in 
existence,  so  he  bore  his  ill  luck  with  great  com- 
posure, shared  the  dregs  of  the  coffee  -with  his 
brother,  and  laid  down  to  sleep  in  his  wet  clothes. 

We  ourselves  had  our  share  of  the  deluge.  We 
were  leading  a  pair  of  mules  to  Kansas  when  the 
storm  broke.  Such  sharp  and  incessant  flashes  of 
lightning,  such  stunning  and  continuous  thunder.  I 
had  never  known  before.  The  woods  were  com- 
pletely obscured  by  the  diagonal  sheets  of  rain  that 
fell  with  a  heavy  roar,  and  rose  in  spray  from  the 
ground  ;  and  the  streams  rose  so  rapidly  that  we 
could  hardly  ford  them.  At  length,  looming  through 
the  rain,  we  saw  the  log-house  of  Colonel  Chick, 
who  received  us  with  his  usual  bland  hospitality,-  ; 
while  his  wife,  who,  though  a  little  soured  and 
stiffened  by  too  frequent  attendance  on  camp-meet- 
ings, was  not  behind  him  in  hospitable  feeling,  sup- 
plied us  \\ith  the  means  of  repairing  our  drenched 
and  bedraggled  condition.  The  storm  clearing 
awav  at  about  sunset,  opened  a  noble  prospect  from 
the  porch  of  the  colonel's  house,  which  stands  upon 
a  high  hill.  The  sun  streamed  from  the  breaking 
clouds  upon  the  swift  and  angr}'  Missouri,  and  on 
the  immense  expanse  of  luxuriant  forest  that 
stretched  from  its  banks  back  to  the  distant  bluffs. 

Returning  on  the  next  day  to  Westport,  we  re- 
ceived a  message  from  the  Captam,  who  had  ridden 
back  to  deliver  it  in  person,  but  finding  that  we 
were  in  Kansas,  had  intrusted  it  with  an  acquaint- 
ance of  his  named  \'ogel,  who  kept  a  small  grocery 
and  liquor  shop.  WTiiskey,  by  the  way,  circulates 
more  freely  in  Westport  than  is  altogether  safe  in  a 
place  where  ever)'  man  carries  a  loaded  pistol  in  his 
pocket.  As  we  passed  this  establishment,  we  saw 
Vogel's    broad  German  face  and    knavish-looking 


THE  FRONTIER.  9 

eyes  thrust  from  his  door.  He  said  he  had  some- 
thing to  tell  us,  and  invited  us  to  take  a  dram. 
Neither  his  liquor  nor  his  message  was  very  pala- 
table. The  Captain  had  returned  to  give  us  notice 
that  R.,  who  assumed  the  direction  of  his  party, 
had  determined  upon  another  route  from  that  agreed 
upon  between  us  ;  and  instead  of  taking  the  course  of 
the  traders,  to  pass  northward  by  Fort  Leavenworth, 
and  follow  the  path  marked  out  by  the  dragoons 
in  their  expedition  of  last  summer.  To  adopt  such 
a  plan  without  consulting  us  we  looked  upon  as  a 
very  high-handed  proceeding  ;  but,  suppressing  our 
dissatisfaction  as  well  as  we  could,  we  made  up  our 
minds  to  join  them  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  where  they 
were  to  wait  for  us. 

Accordingly,  our  preparations  being  now  com- 
plete, we  attempted  one  fine  morning  to  commence 
our  journey.  The  first  step  was  an  unfortunate  one. 
No  sooner  were  our  animals  put  in  harness  than  the 
shaft-mule  reared  and  plunged,  burst  ropes  and 
straps,  and  nearly  flung  the  cart  into  the  Missouri. 
Finding  her  wholly  uncontrollable,  we  e.xchanged 
her  for  another,  with  which  we  were  furnished  by 
our  friend  Mr.  Boone  of  Westport,  a  grandson  of 
Daniel  Boone,  the  pioneer.  This  foretaste  of  prairie 
experience  was  very  soon  followed  by  another. 
Westport  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  we  en- 
countered a  deep  muddy  gully,  of  a  species  that 
afterward  became  but  too  familiar  to  us  ;  and  here, 
for  the  space  of  an  hour  or  more,  the  cart  stuck  fast. 


CHAPTER   n. 

BREAKING   THE   ICE. 

"  Though  sloggards  deem  it  but  a  foolish  chase. 
And  marvel  men  should  quit  their  easy  chair. 
The  weary  way  and  long,  long  league  to  trace ; 

Oh  there  is  sweetness  in  the  prairie  air. 
And  life  that  bloated  ease  can  never  hope  to  share." 

Childe  Harolde. 

Both  Shaw  and  myself  were  tolerably  inured  to 
the  %icissitudes  of  travelling.  We  had  experienced 
them  under  various  forms,  and  a  birch  canoe  was  as 
familiar  to  US  as  a  Steamboat.  The  restlessness,  the 
love  of  wilds  and  hatred  of  cities,  natural  perhaps  in 
early  years  to  ever)-  unper\erted  son  of  Adam,  \*-as 
not  oiu-  only  motive  for  undertaking  the  present  jour- 
ney. My  companion  hoped  to  shake  oft  the  effects 
of  a  disorder  that  had  impaired  a  constitution  origi- 
nally hardy  and  robust ;  and  I  was  anxious  to  pursue 
some  inquiries  relative  to  the  character  and  usages 
of  the  remote  Indian  nations,  being  already  familiar 
with  many  of  the  border  tribes. 

Emerging  firom  the  mud-hole  where  we  last  took 
leave  of  the  reader,  we  piusued  our  way  for  some 
time  along  the  narrow  track,  in  the  checkered  sun- 
shine and  shadow  of  the  woods,  till  at  length,  issuing 
forth  into  the  broad  hght,  we  left  behind  us  the  far- 
thest outskirts  of  that  great  forest  that  once  spread 
unbroken  from  the  western  plains  to  the  shore  of 
the  Atlantic.  Looking  over  an  inter\-ening  belt  of 
shrubbers-  we  saw  the  green,  ocean-Uke  expanse 
of  prairie,  stretching  swell  over  swell  to  the  horizon. 

It  was  a  nuld,  calm  spring  day  ;  a  day  when  one 
is  more  disposed  to  musing  and  reverie  than  to 
action,  and  the  softest  part  of  his  nature  is  apt  to 
10 


BKEAKIXG    THE   ICE.  II 

gain  the  ascendency.  I  rode  in  advance  of  the 
party  as  we  passed  through  the  shrubbery,  and  as 
a  nook  of  green  grass  offered  a  strong  temptation,  I 
dismounted  and  lay  down  there.  All  the  trees  and 
saplings  were  in  flower,  or  budding  into  fresh  leaf ; 
the  red  clusters  of  the  maple-blossoms  and  the  rich 
flowers  of  the  Indian  apple  were  there  in  profusion  ; 
and  I  was  half  inclined  to  regret  leaving  behind  the 
land  of  gardens,  for  the  rude  and  stern  scenes  of 
the  prairie  and  the  mountains. 

Meanwhile  the  party  came  in  sight  from  out  of 
the  bushes.  Foremost  rode  Henry  Chatillon,  our 
guide  and  hunter,  a  fine  athletfc  figure,  mounted  on 
a  hardy  gray  Wyandot  pony.  He  wore  a  white 
blanket-coat,  a  broad  hat  of  felt,  moccasons,  and 
pantaloons  of  deer-skin,  ornamented  along  the 
seams  with  rows  of  long  fringes.  His  knife  was 
stuck  in  his  belt  ;  his  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn 
hung  at  his  side,  and  his  rifle  lay  before  him,  resting 
against  the  high  pommel  of  his  saddle,  which,  like 
all  his  equipments,  had  seen  hard  ser\ace,  and  was 
much  the  worse  for  wear.  Shaw  followed  close, 
mounted  on  a  little  sorrel  horse,  and  leading  a 
larger  animal  by  a  rope.  His  outfit,  which  resem- 
bled mine,  had  been  provided  with  a  view  to  use 
rather  than  ornament.  It  consisted  of  a  plain, 
black  Spanish  saddle,  with  holsters  of  heavy  pistols, 
a  blanket  rolled  up  behind  it,  and  the  trail-rope 
attached  to  his  horse's  neck  hanging  coiled  in  front. 
He  carried  a  double-barrelled  smooth-bore,  while  I 
boasted  a  rifle  of  some  fifteen  pounds'  weight.  At 
that  time  our  attire,  though  far  from  elegant,  bore 
some  marks  of  civilization,  and  oftered  a  ver}-  favor- 
able contrast  to  the  inimitable  shabbiness  of  our 
appearance  on  the  return  journey.  A  red  flannel 
shirt,  belted  around  the  waist  like  a  frock,  then  con- 
stituted our  upper  garment  ;    moccasons  had  sup- 


12  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

planted  our  failing  boots  ;  and  the  remaining  essen- 
tial portion  of  our  attire  consisted  of  an  extraordi- 
nary article,  manufactured  by  a  squaw  out  of  smoked 
buckskin.  Our  muleteer,  Delorier,  brought  up  the 
rear  with  his  cart,  wading  ankle-deep  in  the  mud, 
alternately  puffing  at  his  pipe,  and  ejaculating  in 
his  prairie  patois  :  "  Sucre  cnfiDit  dc ga}-ce  !"  as  one 
of  the  mules  would  seem  to  recoil  before  some  abyss 
of  unusual  profundity.  The  cart  was  of  the  kind 
that  one  may  see  by  scores  around  the  market-place 
in  Montreal,  and  had  a  white  covering  to  protect 
the  articles  within.  These  were  our  provisions»and 
a  tent,  with  ammunition,  blankets,  and  presents  for 
the  Indians. 

We  were  in  all  four  men  with  eight  animals;  for 
besides  the  spare  horses  led  by  Shaw  and  myself, 
an  additional  mule  was  driven  along  with  us  as  a 
reserve  in  case  of  accident. 

After  this  summing  up  of  our  forces,  it. may  not 
be  amiss  to  glance  at  the  characters  of  the  two  men 
who  accompanied  us. 

Delorier  was  a  Canadian,  with  all  the  character- 
istics of  the  true  Jean  Bapti'ste.  Neither  fatigue, 
exposure,  nor  hard  labor  could  ever  impair  his 
cheerfulness  and  gayety,  or  his  obsequious  polite- 
ness to  his  bourgeois;  and  when  night  came  he 
would  sit  down  by  the  fire,  smoke  his  pipe,  and  tell 
stories  with  the  utmost  contentment.  In  fact,  the 
prairie  was  his  congenial  element.  Henry  Ghatillon 
was  of  a  different  stamp.  When  we  were  at  St. 
Louis,  several  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  Fur  Com- 
pany had  kindly  offered  to  procure  for  us  a  hunter 
and  guide  suited  for  our  purposes,  and  on  coming 
one  afternoon  to  the  office,  we  found  there  a  tall 
and  exceedingly  well-dressed  man,  with  a  face  so 
open  and  frank  that  it  attracted  our  notice  at  once. 
We  were  surprised  at  being  told  that  it  was  he  who 


BREAKIXG    THE   ICE.  1 3 

wished  to  guide  us  to  the  mountains.  He  was  bom 
in  a  httle  French  town  near  St.  Louis,  and  from  the 
age  of  fifteen  years  had  been  constantly  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  employed 
for  the  most  part  by  the  company,  to  supply  their 
forts  with  buffalo -meat.  As  a  hunter,  he  had  but 
one  rival  in  the  whole  region,  a  man  named  Cimo- 
neau,  with  whom,  to  the  honor  of  both  of  them,  he 
was  on  terms  of  the  closest  friendship.  He  had 
arrived  at  St.  Louis  the  day  before  fi-om  the  moun- 
tains, where  he  had  remained  for  four  years  ;  and 
he  now  only  asked  to  go  and  spend  a  day  with  his 
motner  before  setting  out  on  another  expedition. 
His  age  was  about  thirty-  ;  he  was  six  feet  high,  and 
verj-  powerfully  and  gracefully  moulded.  The 
prairies  had  been  his  school  ;  he  could  neither  read 
nor  write,  but  he  had  a  natural  refinement  and  deli- 
cacy of  mind,  such  as  is  ver\-  rarely  found  even  in 
women.  His  manly  face  was  a  perfect  mirror  of 
uprightness,  simplicity,  and  kindness  of  heart ;  he 
had,  moreover,  a  keen  perception  of  character,  and 
a  tact  that  would  preserve  him  from  flagrant  error 
in  any  societ}-.  Henry  had  not  the  restless  energy 
of  an  Anglo-American.  He  was  content  to  take 
things  as  he  found  them  ;  and  his  chief  fault  arose 
from  an  excess  of  easy  generosity  impelling  him  to 
give  away  too  profusely  ever  to  thrive  in  the  world. 
Yet  it  was  commonly  remarked  of  him  that  what- 
ever he  might  choose  to  do  with  what  belonged  to 
himself,  the  property  of  others  was  always  safe  in  his 
hands.  His  bravery  was  as  much  celebrated  in  the 
mountains  as  his  skill  in  hunting  ;  but  it  is  charac- 
teristic of  him  that  in  a  countr>-  where  the  rifle  is 
the  chief  arbiter  between  man  and  man,  Henr\-  was 
ven,"  seldom  involved  in  quarrels.  Once  or  twice, 
indeed,  his  quiet  good  nature  had  been  mistaken 
and  presumed  upon,  but  the  consequences  of  the 


14  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

error  were  so  formidable  that  no  one  was  ever 
known  to  repeat  it.  No  better  evidence  of  the  in- 
trepidity of  his  temper  could  be  wished  than  the 
common  report  that  he  had  killed  more  than  thirty 
grizzly  bears.  He  was  a  proof  of  what  unaided 
nature  will  sometimes  do.  I  have  never,  in  the  city 
or  in  the  wilderness,  met  a  better  man  than  my 
noble  and  true-hearted  friend,  Henry  Chatillon. 

We  were  soon  free  of  the  woods  and  bushes,  and 
fairly  upon  the  broad  prairie.  Now  and  then  a 
Shawanoe  passed  us,  riding  his  little  shaggy  pony 
at  a  "  lope";  his  calico  shirt,  his  gaudy  sash,  and 
the  gay  handkerchief  bound  around  his  snaky  hair, 
fluttering  in  the  wind.  At  noon  we  stopped  to  rest 
not  far  from  a  little  creek  replete  with  frogs  and 
young  turtles.  There  had  been  an  Indian  encamp- 
ment at  the  place,  and  the  framework  of  their  lodges 
still  remained,  enabling  us  very  easily  to  gain  a 
shelter  from  the  sun  by  merely  spreading  one  or 
two  blankets  over  them.  Thus  shaded,  we  sat  upon 
our  saddles,  and  Shaw  for  the  first  time  lighted  his 
favorite  Indian  pipe  ;  while  Delorier  was  squatted 
over  a  hot  bed  of  coals,  shading  his  eyes  with  one 
hand,  and  holding  a  little  stick  in  the  other  with 
which  he  regulated  the  hissing  contents  of  the  fry- 
ing-pan.<'  The  horses  were  turned  to  feed  among 
the  scattered  bushes  of  a  low,  oozy  meadow.  A 
drowsy  spring-like  sultriness  pervaded  the  air,  and 
the  voices  of  ten  thousand  young  frogs  and  insects, 
just  awakened  into  life,  rose  in  varied  chorus  from 
the  creek  and  the  meadows.  \ 

Scarcely  were  we  seated  when  a  visitor  ap- 
proached. This  was  an  old  Kansas  Indian  ;  a  man 
of  distinction,  if  one  might  judge  from  his  dress. 
His  head  was  shaved  and  painted  rod,  and  from  the 
tuft  of  hair  remaining  on  the  crown  dangled  several 
eagle's  feathers,  and  the  tails  of  two  or  three  rattle- 


BREAKING    THE   ICE.  1 5 

snakes.  His  cheeks,  too,  were  daubed  with  ver- 
milion ;  his  ears  were  adorned  with  green  glass 
pendants  ;  a  collar  of  grizzly  bears'  claws  sur- 
rounded his  neck,  and  several  large  necklaces  of 
wampum  hung  on  his  breast.  Having  shaken  us 
by  the  hand  with  a  cordial  gnmt  of  salutation,  the 
old  man,  dropping  his  red  blanket  from  his  shoul- 
ders, sat  down  cross-legged  on  the  ground.  In  the 
absence  of  licjuor,  we  offered  him  a  cup  of  sweet- 
ened water,  at  which  he  ejaculated  "Good!"  and 
was  beginning  to  tell  us  how  great  a  man  he  was, 
and  how  many  Pawnees  he  had  killed,  when  sud- 
denly a  motley  concourse  appeared  wading  across 
the  creek  toward  us.  They  filed  past  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, men,  women,  and  children  :  some  were  on 
horseback,  some  on  foot,  but  all  were  alike  squalid 
and  wretched.  Old  squaws,  mounted  astride  of 
shaggy,  meagre  little  ponies,  with  perhaps  one  or 
two  snake-eyed  children  seated  behind  them,  cling- 
ing to  their  tattered  blankets  ;  tall,  lank  young  men 
on  foot,  with  bows  and  arrows  in  their  hands  ;  and 
girls  whose  native  ugliness  not  all  the  charms  of 
glass  beads  and  scarlet  cloth  could  disguise,  made 
up  the  procession  ;  although  here  and  there  was  a 
man  who,  like  our  visitor,  seemed  to  hold  some 
rank  in  this  respectable  community.  They  were 
the  dregs  of  the  Kansas  nation,  who,  while  their 
betters  were  gone  to  hunt  the  buffalo,  had  left  the 
village  on  a  begging  expedition  to  Westport. 

When  this  ragamuffin  horde  had  passed,  we 
caught  our  horses,  saddled,  harnessed,  and  resumed 
our  journey.  Fording  the  creek,  the  low  roofs  of  a 
number  of  rude  buildings  appeared,  rising  from  a 
cluster  of  groves  and  woods  on  the  left  ;  and  riding 
up  through  a  long  lane,  amid  a  profusion  of  wild 
roses  and  early  spring  flowers,  we  found  the  log- 
church  and  school-houses  belonging  to  the  Meth- 


^ 


1 6  THE    OR  EG  OX   TRAIL. 

odist  Shawanoe  Mission.  The  Indians  were  on  the 
point  of  gathering  to  a  rehgious  meeting.  Some 
scores  of  them,  tall  men  in  half-civilized  dress,  were 
seated  on  wooden  benches  under  the  trees  ;  while 
their  horses  were  tied  to  the  sheds  and  fences. 
Their  chief,  Parks,  a  remarkably  large  and  athletic 
man,  was  just  arrived  from  \Vestport,  where  he 
owns  a  trading  establishment.  Besides  this,  he  has 
a  fine  farm  and  a  considerable  number  of  slaves. 
Indeed  the  Shawanoes  have  made  greater  progress 
in  agriculture  than  any  other  tribe  on  the  Missouri 
frontier  ;  and  both  in  appearance  and  in  character 
form  a  marked  contrast  to  our  late  acquaintance, 
the  Kansas. 

A  few  hours'  ride  brought  us  to  the  banks  of  the 
river  Kansas.  Traversing  the  woods  that  lined  it, 
and  ploughing  through  the  deep  sand,  we  encamped 
not  far  from  the  bank,  at  the  Lower  Delaware  cross- 
ing. Our  tent  was  erected  for  the  first  time  on  a 
meadow  close  to  the  woods,  and  the  camp  prepa- 
rations being  complete,  we  began  to  think  of  sup- 
per. An  old  Delaware  woman,  of  some  three  hun- 
dred pounds'  weight,  sat  in  the  porch  of  a  little  log- 
house,  close  to  the  water,  and  a  ver}^  pretty  half- 
breed  girl  was  engaged,  under  her  superintendence, 
in  feeding  a  large  flock  of  turkeys  that  were  flutter- 
ing and  gobbling  about  the  door.  But  no  offers  of 
money,  or  even  of  tobacco,  could  induce  her  to 
part  with  one  of  her  favorites  :  so  I  took  my  rifle 
to  see  if  the  woods  or  the  river  could  furnish  us  any- 
thing. A  multitude  of  quails  were  plaintively  whist- 
ling in  the  woods  and  meadows  ;  but  nothing  appro- 
priate to  the  rifle  was  to  be  seen,  except  three  buz- 
zards, seated  on  the  spectral  limbs  of  an  old  dead 
sycamore,  that  thrust  itself  out  o\er  the  river  from 
the  dense,  sunny  wall  of  fresh  foliage.  Their  ugly 
heads  were  drawn  down  between  their  shoulders. 


BREAKING    THE   ICE.  1 7 

and  they  seemed  to  luxuriate  in  the  soft  sunshine 
that  was  pouring  from  the  west.  As  they  offered  no 
epicurean  temptations,  I  refrained  from  disturbing 
their  enjoyment,  but  contented  myself  with  ad- 
miring the  calm  beauty  of  the  sunset,  for  the  river, 
eddying  swiftly  in  deep  purple  shadows  between  the 
impending  woods,  formed  a  wild  but  tranquillizing 
scene. 

When  I  returned  to  the  camp  I  found  Shaw  and 
an  old  Indian  seated  on  the  ground  in  close  con- 
ference, passing  the  pipe  between  them.  The  old 
man  was  explaining  that  he  loved  the  whites,  and 
had  an  especial  partiality  for  tobacco.  Delorier  was 
arranging  upon  the  ground  our  ser\-ice  of  tin  cups 
and  plates  ;  and  as  other  viands  were  not  to  be  had, 
he  set  before  us  a  repast  of  biscuit  and  bacon,  and 
a  large  pot  of  coffee.  Unsheathing  our  knives,  we 
attacked  it,  disposed  of  the  greater  part,  and  tossed 
the  residue  to  the  Indian.  Meanwhile  our  horses, 
now  hobbled  for  the  first  time,  stood  among  the 
trees,  with  their  fore-legs  tied  together,  in  great  dis- 
gust and  astonishment.  They  seemed  by  no  means 
to  relish  this  foretaste  of  what  was  before  them. 
Mine,  in  particular,  had  conceived  a  mortal  aversion 
to  the  prairie  life.  One  of  them,  christened  Hen- 
drick,  an  animal  whose  strength  and  hardihood 
were  his  only  merits,  and  who  yielded  to  nothing 
but  the  cogent  arguments  of  the  whip,  looked  toward 
us  with  an  indignant  countenance,  as  if  he  medi- 
tated avenging  his  wrongs  with  a  kick.  The  other, 
Pontiac,  a  good  horse,  though  of  plebeian  lineage, 
stood  with  his  head  drooping  and  his  mane  hanging 
about  his  eyes,  with  the  grieved  and  sulky  air  of  a 
lubberly  boy  sent  off  to  school.  Poor  Pontiac  !  his 
forebodings  were  but  too  just ;  for  when  I  last  heard 
from  him  he  was  under  the  lash  of  an  Ogillallah 
brave,  on  a  war-party  against  the  Crows. 
2 


1 8  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

As  it  grew  dark,  and  the  voices  of  the  whippoor- 
wills  succeeded  the  whistle  of  the  quails,  we  re- 
moved our  saddles  to  the  tent,  to  serve  as  pillows, 
spread  our  blankets  upon  the  ground,  and  prepared 
to  bivouac  for  the  first  time  that  season.  Each  man 
selected  the  place  in  the  tent  which  he  was  to 
occupy  for  the  journey.  To  Delorier,  however, 
was  assigned  the  cart,  into  which  he  could  creep  in 
wet  weather,  and  find  a  much  better  shelter  than 
his  bourgeois  enjoyed  in  the  tent. 

The  river  Kansas  at  this  point  forms  the  boun- 
dar)--line  between  the  country  of  the  Shawanoes  and 
that  of  the  Delawares.  We  crossed  it  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  rafring  over  our  horses  and  equipage 
with  much  difficult}',  and  unloading  our  cart  in 
order  to  make  our  way  up  the  steep  ascent  on  the 
farther  bank.  It  was  a  Sunday  morning  ;  warm, 
tranquil,  and  bright ;  and  a  perfect  stillness  reigned 
over  the  rough  inclosures  and  neglected  fields  of  the 
Delawares,  except  the  ceaseless  hum  and  chirruping 
of  myriads  of  insects.  Now  and  then  an  Indian 
rode  past  on  his  way  to  the  meeting-house,  or, 
through  the  dilapidated  entrance  of  some  shattered 
log-house,  an  old  woman  might  be  discerned  enjoy- 
ing all  the  luxur)-  of  idleness.  There  was  no  village 
bell,  for  the  Delawares  have  none  ;  and  yet  upon 
that  forlorn  and  rude  settlement  was  the  same  spirit 
of  Sabbath  repose  and  tranquillity  as  in  some  little 
New  England  village  among  the  mountains  of  New 
Hampshire  or  the  \'ermont  woods. 

Having  at  present  no  leisure  for  such  reflections, 
we  pursued  our  journey.  A  militar\-  road  led  from 
this  point  to  Fort  Leavenworth,  and  for  many  miles 
the  farms  and  cabins  of  the  Delawares  were  scat- 
tered at  short  inter\-als  on  either  hand.  The  little 
rude  structures  of  logs,  erected  usually  on  the  bor- 
ders of  a  tract  of  woods,  made  a  picturesque  feature 


BREAKING    THE   ICE.  1 9 

in  the  landscape.  But  the  scenery  needed  no 
foreign  aid.  Nature  had  done  enough  for  it  ;  and 
the  alternation  of  rich  green  prairies  and  groves  that 
stood  in  clusters,  or  lined  the  banks  of  the  numerous 
little  streams,  had  all  the  softened  and  polished 
beauty  of  a  region  that  has  been  for  centuries  under 
the  hand  of  man.  At  that  early  season,  too,  it  was 
in  the  height  of  its  freshness  and  luxuriance.  The 
woods  were  flushed  with  the  red  buds  of  the  maple  ; 
there  were  frequent  flowering  shrubs  unknown  in 
the  east  ;  and  the  green  swells  of  the  prairie  were 
thickly  studded  with  blossoms. 

Encamping  near  a  spring,  by  the  side  of  a  hill, 
we  resumed  our  journey  in  the  morning,  and  early 
in  the  afternoon  had  arrived  within  a  few  miles  of 
Fort  Leavenworth.  The  road  crossed  a  stream 
densely  bordered  with  trees,  and  running  in  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  woody  hollow.  We  were  about  to 
descend  into  it  when  a  wild  and  confused  procession 
appeared,  passing  through  the  water  below,  and 
coming  up  the  steep  ascent  toward  us.  We  stopped 
to  let  them  pass.  They  were  Delawares,  just  re- 
turned from  a  hunting  expedition.  All,  both  men 
and  women,  were  mounted  on  horseback,  and  drove 
along  with  them  a  considerable  number  of  pack- 
mules,  laden  with  the  furs  they  had  taken,  together 
with  the  buffalo-robes,  kettles,  and  other  articles  of 
their  travelling  equipment,  which,  as  well  as  their 
clothing  and  their  weapons,  had  a  worn  and  dingy 
aspect,  as  if  they  had  seen  hard  service  of  late.  At 
the  rear  of  the  party  was  an  old  man,  who,  as  he 
came  up,  stopped  his  horse  to  speak  to  us.  He 
rode  a  little  tough,  shaggy  pony,  with  mane  and  tail 
well  knotted  with  burs,  and  a  rusty  Spanish  bit  in 
its  mouth,  to  which,  by  way  of  reins,  was  attached 
a  string  of  raw  hide.  His  saddle,  robbed  probably 
from  a  Mexican,  had  no  covering,  being  merely  a 


20  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

tree  of  the  Spanish  form,  with  a  piece  of  grizzly 
bear's  skin  laid  over  it,  a  pair  of  rude  wooden  stir- 
rups attached,  and  in  the  absence  of  girth,  a  thong 
of  hide  passing  around  the  horse's  belly.  The 
rider's  dark  features  and  keen  snaky  eye  were 
unequivocally  Indian.  He  wore  a  buckskin  frock, 
which,  like  his  fringed  leggings,  was  well  polished 
and  blackened  by  grease  and  long  service  ;  and  an 
old  handkerchief  was  tied  around  his  head.  Rest- 
ing on  the  saddle  before  him  lay  his  rifle,  a  weapon 
in  the  use  of  which  the  Delawares  are  skilful, 
though,  from  its  weight,  the  distant  prairie  Indians 
are  too  lazy  to  caxry  it. 

"WTio's  your  chief?"  he  immediately  inquired. 

Henr}'  Chatillon  pointed  to  us.  The  old  Dela- 
ware fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  us  for  a  moment, 
and  then  sententiously  remarked  : 

"  No  good  !  Too  young  !"  With  this  flattering 
comment  he  left  us,  and  rode  after  his  people. 

This  tribe,  the  Delawares,  once  the  peaceful  allies 
of  Wilham  Penn,  the  tributaries  of  the  conquering 
Iroquois,  are  now  the  most  adventurous  and  dreaded 
warriors  upon  the  prairies.  They  make  war  upon 
remote  tribes,  the  very^  names  of  which  were  un- 
known to  their  fathers  in  their  ancient  seats  in 
Pennsylvania  ;  and  they  push  these  new  quarrels 
with  true  Indian  rancor,  sending  out  their  little  war- 
parties  as  far  as  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  into  the 
Mexican  territories.  Their  neighbors  and  former 
confederates,  the  Shawanoes,  who  are  tolerable  farm- 
ers, are  in  a  prosperous  condition  ;  but  the  Dela- 
wares dwindle  ever\-  year  from  the  number  of  men 
lost  in  their  warlike  expeditions. 

Soon  after  leaving  this  party  we  saw,  stretching 
on  the  right,  the  forests  that  follow  the  course  of  the 
Missouri,  and  the  deep  woody  channel  through 
which  at  this  point  it  runs.     At  a  distance  in  front 


FORT  LEAVENWORTH.  21 

were  the  white  barracks  of  Fort  Leavenworth,  just 
visible  through  the  trees  upon  an  eminence  above  a 
bend  of  the  river.  A  wide  green  meadow,  as  level 
as  a  lake,  lay  between  us  and  the  Missouri,  and 
upon  this,  close  to  a  line  of  trees  that  bordered  a 
little  brook,  stood  the  tent  of  the  Captain  and  his 
companions,  with  their  horses  feeding  around  it ; 
but  they  themselves  were  invisible.  Wright,  their 
muleteer,  was  there,  seated  on  the  tongue  of  the 
wagon,  repairing  his  harness.  Boisverd  stood  clean- 
ing his  rifle  at  the  door  of  the  tent,  and  Sorel 
lounged  idly  about.  On  closer  examination,  how- 
ever, we  discovered  the  Captain's  brother.  Jack,  sit- 
ting in  the  tent,  at  his  old  occupation  of  splicing 
trail-ropes.  He  welcomed  us  in  his  broad  Irish 
brogue,  and  said  that  his  brother  was  fishing  in  the 
river,  and  R.  gone  to  the  garrison.  They  returned 
before  sunset.  Meanwhile  we  erected  our  own  tent 
not  far  off,  and  after  supper  a  council  was  held,  in 
which  it  was  resolved  to  remain  one  day  at  Fort 
Leavenworth,  and  on  the  next  to  bid  a  final  adieu 
to  the  frontier  ;  or  in  the  phraseology  of  the  region, 
to  "jump  off."  Our  deliberations  were  conducted 
by  the  ruddy  light  from  a  distant  swell  of  the  prairie, 
where  the  long  dry  grass  of  last  summer  was  on  fire. 


CHAPTER    III. 

FORT   LEAVENWORTH. 

"  I've  wandered  wide  and  wandered  far. 
But  never  have  I  met, 
In  all  this  lovely  western  land, 

A  spot  more  lovely  yet." — BRYANT. 

On   the  next  morning  we  rode  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth.    Colonel  (now  General)  Kearney,  to  whom 


22  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

I  had  had  the  honor  of  an  introduction  when  at  St. 
Louis,  was  iust  arrived,  and  received  us  at  his  quar- 
ters with  the  high-bred  courtesy  habitual  to  him. 
Fort  Leavenworth  is,  in  fact,  no  fort,  being  -without 
defensive  works,  except  two  Block -houses.  No 
rumors  of  war  had  as  yet  disturbed  its  tranquillit)-. 
In  the  square  grassy  area,  surrounded  by  barracks 
and  the  quarters  of  the  officers,  the  men  were  pass- 
ing and  repassing,  or  lounging  among  the  trees  ; 
although  not  many  weeks  afterward  it  presented  a 
different  scene  ;  for  here  the  ver\"  offscourings  of 
the  frontier  were  congregated,  to  be  marshalled  for 
the  expedition  against  Santa  Fe. 

Passing  through  the  garrison,  we  rode  toward  the 
Kickapoo  village^  five  or  six  miles  beyond.  The 
pathT  a  rather  dubious  and  uncertain  one,  led  us 
along  the  ridge  of  high  bluffs  that  border  the  Mis- 
souri ;  and  by  looking  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  we 
could  enjoy  a  strange  contrast  of  opposite  scenen,-. 
On  the  left  stretched  the  prairie,  rising  into  swells 
and  undulations,  thickly  sprinkled  with  groves,  or 
gracefully  expanding  into  %vide  grassy  basins  of 
miles  in  extent  ;  while  its  cun-atures.  swelling 
against  the  horizon,  were  often  surmounted  by  lines 
of  sunny  woods  ;  a  scene  to  which  the  freshness  of 
the  season  and  the  peculiar  mellowness  of  the 
atmosphere  gave  additional  softness.  Below  us,  on 
the  right,  was  a  tract  of  ragged  and  broken  woods. 
We  could  look  down  on  the  summits  of  the  trees, 
some  living  and  some  dead  ;  some  erect,  others 
leaning  at  ever)-  angle,  and  others  still  piled  in 
masses  together  by  the  passage  of  a  hurricane. 
Beyond  their  extreme  verge  the  turbid  waters  of  the 
Missouri  were  discernible  through  the  boughs,  rolling 
powerfully  along  at  the  foot  of  the  woody  dechvities 
on  its  farther  bank. 

The  path  soon  after  led  inland  ;  and  as  we  crossed 


FORT  LEAVENWORTH.  23 

an  open  meadow  we  saw  a  cluster  of  buildings  on  a 
rising  ground  before  us,  with  a  crowd  of  people  sur- 
rounding them.  They  were  the  storehouse,  cottage, 
and  stables  of  the  Kickapoo  trader's  establishment. 
Just  at  that  moment,  as  it  chanced,  he  was  beset 
with  half  the  Indians  of  the  settlement.  They  had 
tied  their  wretched,  neglected  little  ponies  by  dozens 
along  the  fences  and  out-houses,  and  were  either 
lounging  about  the  place  or  crowding  into  the  trad- 
ing-house. Here  were  faces  of  various  colors  :  red, 
green,  white,  and  black,  curiously  intermingled  and 
disposed  over  the  visage  in  a  variety  of  patterns. 
Calico  shirts,  red  and  blue  blankets,  brass  ear-rings, 
wampum  necklaces,  appeared  in  profusion.  The 
trader  was  a  blue-eyed,  open-faced  man,  who 
neither  in  his  manners  nor  his  appearance  betrayed 
any  of  the  roughness  of  the  frontier  ;  though  just 
at  present  he  was  obliged  to  keep  a  lynx  eye  on 
his  suspicious  customers,  who,  men  and  women, 
were  climbing  on  his  counter  and  seating  them- 
selves among  his  boxes  and  bales. 

The  village  itself  was  not  far  off,  and  sufficiently 
illustrated  the  condition  of  its  unfortunate  and  self- 
abandoned  occupants.  Fancy  to  yourself  a  little 
swift  stream,  working  its  devious  way  down  a  woody 
valley  ;  sometimes  wholly  hidden  under  logs  and 
fallen  trees,  sometimes  issuing  forth  and  spreading 
into  a  broad,  clear  pool  ;  and  on  its  banks,  in  little 
nooks  cleared  away  among  the  trees,  miniature  log- 
houses  in  utter  ruin  and  neglect.  A  labyrinth  of 
narrow,  obstructed  paths  connected  these  habitations 
one  with  another.  Sometimes  we  met  a  stray  calf, 
a  pig,  or  a  pony  belonging  to  some  of  the  villagers, 
who  usually  lay  in  the  sun  in  front  of  their  dwellings 
and  looked  on  us  with  cold,  suspicious  eyes  as  we 
approached.  Farther  on,  in  place  of  the  log-huts 
of  the  Kickapoos,  we  found  the  pukwi  lodges  of 


24  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

their  neighbors,  the  Pottawattamies,  whose  condition 
seemed  no  better  than  theirs. 

Growing  tired  at  last,  and  exhausted  by  the  ex- 
cessive heat  and  sultriness  of  the  day,  we  returned 
to  our  friend,  the  trader.  By  this  time  the  crowd 
around  him  had  dispersed  and  left  him  at  leisure. 
He  invited  us  to  his  cottage,  a  little  white-and-green 
building,  in  the  style  of  the  old  French  settlements  ; 
and  ushered  us  into  a  neat,  well-furnished  room. 
The  blinds  were  closed,  and  the  heat  and  glare  of 
the  sun  excluded  :  the  room  was  as  cool  as  a  cavern. 
It  was  neatly  carpeted,  too,  and  furnished  in  a 
manner  that  we  hardly  expected  on  the  frontier. 
The  sofas,  chairs,  tables,  and  a  well-filled  book- 
case would  not  have  disgraced  an  eastern  city  ; 
though  there  were  one  or  two  little  tokens  that  indi- 
cated the  rather  questionable  civilization  of  the 
region.  A  pistol,  loaded  and  capped,  lay  on  the 
mantel-piece  ;  and  through  the  glass  of  the  book- 
case, peeping  above  the  works  of  John  Milton, 
glittered  the  handle  of  a  verj-  mischievous-looking 
knife. 

Our  host  went  out,  and  returned  with  iced  water, 
glasses,  and  a  bottle  of  excellent  claret  ,  a  refresh- 
ment most  welcome  in  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day  ; 
and  soon  after  appeared  a  merr}-,  laughing  woman, 
who  must  have  been,  a  year  or  two  before,  a  very 
rich  and  luxuriant  specimen  of  Creole  beauty.  She 
came  to  say  that  lunch  was  ready  in  the  next  room. 
Our  hostess  evidently  lived  on  the  sunny  side  of  life 
and  troubled  herself  with  none  of  its  cares.  She 
sat  down  and  entertained  us  while  we  were  at  table 
with  anecdotes  of  fishing-parties,  frolics,  and  the 
officers  at  the  fort.  Taking  leave  at  length  of  the 
hospitable  trader  and  his  friend,  we  rode  back  to 
the  garrison. 

Shaw  passed  on  to  the  camp,  while  I  remained  to 


I^IBKABYOF 
ir.  0.  STATE  COLLE€t*; 


"JUMPING    off:'  2$ 

call  upon  Colonel  Kearney.  I  found  him  still  at 
table.  There  sat  our  friend  the  Captain,  in  the 
same  remarkable  habiliments  in  which  we  saw  him 
at  Westport  ;  the  black  pipe,  however,  being  for 
the  present  laid  aside.  He  dangled  his  little  cap 
in  his  hand,  and  talked  of  steeple-chases,  touching 
occasionally  upon  his  anticipated  exploits  in  buffalo- 
hunting.  There,  too,  was  R.,  somewhat  more  ele- 
gantly attired.  For  the  last  time  we  tasted  the  lux- 
uries of  civilization,  and  drank  adieus  to  it  in  wine 
good  enough  to  make  us  almost  regret  the  leave- 
taking.  Then,  mounting,  we  rode  together  to  the 
camp,  where  everything  was  in  readiness  for  depart- 
ure on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

JUMPING     OFF 


^' 


"  We  forded  the  river  and  clomb  the  high  hill, 
Never  our  steeds  for  a  day  stood  still ; 
Whether  we  lay  in  the  cave  or  the  shed, 
Our  sleep  fell  soft  on  the  hardest  bed  ; 
Whether  we  couched  in  our  rough  capote. 
On  the  rougher  plank  of  our  gliding  boat, 
Or  stretched  on  the  sand,  or  our  saddles  spread 
As  a  pillow  beneath  the  resting  head. 

Fresh  we  woke  upon  the  morrow ; 
All  our  thoughts  and  words  had  scope, 
We  had  health  and  we  had  hope, 

Toil  and  travel,  but  no  sorrow." 

Siege  of  Corinth. 

The  reader  need  not  be  told  that  John  Bull  never 
leaves  home  without  encumbering  himself  wth  the 
greatest  possible  load  of  luggage.  Our  companions 
were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  They  had  a  wagon 
drawn  by  six  mules,  and  crammed  with  provisions 


26  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

for  six  months,  besides  ammunition  enough  for  a 
regiment ;  spare  rifles  and  fowhng-pieces,  ropes  and 
harness  ;  personal  baggage,  and  a  miscellaneous 
assortment  of  articles,  which  produced  infinite  em- 
barrassment on  the  journey.  They  had  also  deco- 
rated their  persons  with  telescopes  and  portable 
compasses,  and  carried  English  double-barrelled 
rifles  of  sixteen  to  the  pound  calibre,  slung  to  their 
saddles  dragoon  fashion. 

By  sunrise  on  the  twenty-third  of  May  we  had 
breakfasted  ;  the  tents  were  levelled,  the  animals 
saddled  and  harnessed,  and  all  was  prepared. 
"  Avance  done  !  get  up  !"  cried  Delorier  from  his 
seat  in  front  of  the  cart.  Wright,  our  friends' 
muleteer,  after  some  swearing  and  lashing,  got  his 
insubordinate  train  in  motion,  and  then  the  whole 
party  filed  from  the  ground.  Thus  we  bade  a  long 
adieu  to  bed  and  board,  and  the  principles  of  Black- 
stone' s  Commentaries.  The  day  was  a  most  auspi- 
cious one  ;  and  yet  Shaw  and  I  felt  certain  misgiv- 
ings, which  in  the  sequel  proved  but  too  well 
founded.  We  had  just  learned  that  though  R.  had 
taken  it  upon  him  to  adopt  this  course  without  con- 
sulting us,  not  a  single  man  in  the  party  was  ac- 
quainted with  it  ;  and  the  absurdity  of  our  friend's 
high-handed  measure  very  soon  became  manifest. 
His  plan  was  to  strike  the  trail  of  several  companies 
of  dragoons,  who  last  summer  had  made  an  expe- 
dition under  Colonel  Kearney  to  Fort  Laramie,  and 
by  this  means  to  reach  the  grand  trail  of  the  Oregon 
emigrants  up  the  Platte. 

We  rode  for  an  hour  or  two,  when  a  familiar 
cluster  of  buildings  appeared  on  a  little  hill. 
"  Halloo  !"  shouted  the  Kickapoo  trader  from  over 
his  fence,  ' '  where  are  you  going  ?' '  A  few  rather 
emphatic  exclamations  might  have  been  heard 
among  us  when  we  found  that  we  had  gone  miles 


"JUMPING  off:'  27 

out  of  our  way,  and  were  not  advanced  an  inch  to- 
ward the  Rocky  Mountains.  So  we  turned  in  the 
direction  the  trader  indicated  ;  and,  with  the  sun  for 
a  guide,  began  to  trace  a  "bee-line"  across  the 
prairies.  We  struggled  through  copses  and  lines  of 
wood  ;  we  waded  brooks  and  pools  of  water ;  we 
traversed  prairies  as  green  as  an  emerald,  expand- 
ing before  us  for  mile  after  mile  ;  wider  and  more 
wild  than  the  wastes  Mazeppa  rode  over  : 

"  Man  nor  brute, 
Nor  dint  of  hoof,  nor  print  of  foot, 
Lay  in  the  wild  luxuriant  soil ; 
No  sign  of  travel ;  none  of  toil ; 
The  verj-  air  was  mute." 

Riding  in  advance,  as  we  passed  over  one  of  these 
great  plains,  we  looked  back  and  saw  the  line  of  scat- 
tered horsemen  stretching  for  a  mile  or  more  ;  and 
far  in  the  rear,  against  the  horizon,  the  white  wagons 
creeping  slowly  along.  "Here  we  are  at  last!" 
shouted  the  Captain.  And  in  truth  we  had  struck 
upon  the  traces  of  a  large  body  of  horse.  We 
turned  joyfully  and  followed  this  new  course,  with 
tempers  somewhat  improved  ;  and  toward  sunset 
encamped  on  a  high  swell  of  the  prairie,  at  the  foot 
of  which  a  lazy  stream  soaked  along  through 
clumps  of  rank  grass.  It  was  getting  dark.  We 
turned  the  horses  loose  to  feed.  "  Drive  down  the 
tent-pickets  hard,"  said  Henr>-  Chatillon,  "it  is 
going  to  blow."  We  did  so,  and  secured  the  tent 
as  well  as  we  could  ;  for  the  sky  had  changed  to- 
tally, and  a  fresh  damp  smell  in  the  wind  warned  us 
that  a  stormy  night  was  likely  to  succeed  the  hot, 
clear  day.  The  prairie  also  wore  a  new  aspect,  and 
its  vast  swells  had  grown  black  and  sombre  under 
the  shadow  of  the  clouds.  The  thunder  soon  began 
to  growl  at  a  distance.  Picketing  and  hobbling  the 
horses  among  the  rich  grass  at  the  foot  of  the  slope 


28  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

where  we  encamped,  we  gained  a  shelter  just  as  the 
rain  began  to  fall  ;  and  sat  at  the  opening  of  the 
tent,  watching  the  proceedings  of  the  Captain.  In 
defiance  of  the  rain,  he  was  stalking  among  the 
horses,  wrapped  in  an  old  Scotch  plaid.  An  ex- 
treme solicitude  tormented  him,  lest  some  of  his 
favorites  should  escape  or  some  accident  should 
befall  them  ;  and  he  cast  an  anxious  eye  toward 
three  wolves  who  were  sneaking  along  over  the 
drear\-  surface  of  the  plain  as  if  he  dreaded  some 
hostile  demonstration  on  their  part. 

On  the  next  morning  we  had  gone  but  a  mile  or 
two  when  we  came  to  an  extensive  belt  of  woods, 
through  the  midst  of  which  ran  a  stream,  wide, 
deep,  and  of  an  appearance  particularly  muddy 
and  treacherous.  Delorier  was  in  advance  with 
his  cart  ;  he  jerked  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  lashed 
his  mules,  and  poured  forth  a  volley  of  Canadian 
ejaculations.  In  plunged  the  cart,  but  midway  it 
stuck  fast.  Delorier  leaped  out  knee-deep  in  water, 
and  by  dint  of  sacres  and  a  vigorous  application  of 
the  whip,  he  urged  the  mules  out  of  the  slough. 
Then  approached  the  long  team  and  heavy  wagon 
of  our  friends  ;  but  it  paused  on  the  brink. 

"Now  my  ad  .ice  is — "  began  the  Captain,  who 
had  been  anxiously  contemplating  the  muddy  gulf. 

"  Drive  on  I"  cried  R. 

But  Wright,  the  muleteer,  apparently  had  not  as 
yet  decided  the  point  in  his  own  mind  ;  and  he  sat 
still  in  his  seat  on  one  of  the  shaft-mules,  whistling 
in  a  low  contemplative  strain  to  himself. 

"  My  advice  is,"  resumed  the  Captain,  "  that  we 
unload  ;  for  I'll  bet  any  man  five  pounds  that  if  we 
tr)'  to  go  through  we  shall  stick  fast. ' ' 

"By  the  powers,  we  shall  stick  fasti"  echoed 
Jack,  the  Captain's  brother,  shaking  his  large  head 
with  an  air  of  firm  conviction. 


"JCMP/A-G    OFF.' 


29 


"Drive  on  !  drive  on  !"  cried  R.,  petulantly. 
"Well,"  observed  the  Captain,  turning  to 'us  as 
we  sat  looking  on,  much  edified  bv  this  by-play 
among  our  confederates,  "I  can  only  give  my  ad- 
vice, and  if  people  wont  be  reasonable,  whv'thev 
won't,  that's  all!"  ' 

Meanwhile,  Wright  had  apparentlv  made  up  his 
mmd  :  for  he  suddenly  began  to  shout  forth  a  volley 
of  oaths  and  curses  that,  compared  with  the  French 
imprecations  of  Delorier,  sounded  like  the  roaring 
of  heavy  cannon  after  the  popping  and  sputtering  of 
a  bunch  of  Chinese  crackers.     At  the  same  time  he 
discharged  a  shower  of  blows  upon  his  mules,  who 
hastily  dived  into    the  mud    and  drew  the  wacron 
lumbenng    after    them.     For  a  moment    the  islue 
was  dubious.     Wright  writhed  about  in  his  saddle 
and  swore  and  lashed  like  a  madman  ;  but  who  can 
count  on  a  team    of   half-broken  mules?      At  the 
most  critical  point,  when  all  should  have  been  har- 
mony and  combined  elTort,  the  perverse  brutes  fell 
mto  lamentable  disorder,  and  huddled  together  in 
confusion    on    the   farther  bank.     There    was    the 
wagon  up  to  the  hub  in  mud  and  visibly  settlino- 
every  instant.       There  was    nothing  for  it    but   to 
unload  ;    then  to    dig   away  the  mud    from  before 
the  wheels  with  a  spade,  and    lav  a  causeway  of 
bushes  and  branches.      This    agreeable    labor  ac- 
complished, the  wagon  at  length  emerged  ;  but  if 
I   mention  that  some  interruption    of   this  sort  oc- 
curred at  least  four  or  five  times  a  dav  for  a  fort- 
night, the  reader  will  understand  that  our  progress 
toward  the  Platte  was  not  without  its  obstaclesj^ 

We  travelled  si.\  or  seven  miles  fartherr  and 
"  nooned  "  near  a  brook.  On  the  point  of  resum- 
ing our  journey,  when  the  horses  were  all  driven 
down  to  water,  my  homesick  charger  Pontiac  made 
a  sudden  leap  across,  and  set  off  at  a  round  trot  for 


30  THE    OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

the  settlements.  I  mounted  my  remaining  horse, 
and  started  in  pursuit.  Making  a  circuit,  I  headed 
the  runaway,  hoping  to  drive  him  back  to  camp  ; 
but  he  instantly  broke  into  a  gallop,  made  a  -wide 
tour  on  the  prairie,  and  got  past  me  again.  I  tried 
this  plan  repeatedly,  \nth  the  same  result :  Pontiac 
was  evidently  disgusted  with  the  prairie  ;  so  I  aban- 
doned it,  and  tried  another,  trotting  along  gently 
behind  him,  in  hopes  that  1  might  quietly  get  near 
enough  to  seize  the  trail-rope  which  was  fastened  to 
his  neck,  and  dragged  about  a  dozen  feet  behind 
him.  The  chase  grew  interesting.  For  mile  after 
mile  I  followed  the  rascal.  \\\\h  the  utmost  care  not 
to  alarm  him,  and  gradually  got  nearer,  until  at 
length  old  Hendrick's  nose  was  fairly  brushed  by 
the  whisking  tail  of  the  unsuspecting  Pontiac. 
Without  drawing  rein  I  slid  softly  to  the  ground  ; 
but  my  long  heavy  rifle  encumbered  me,  and  the 
low  sound  it  made  in  striking  the  horn  of  the  sad- 
dle startled  him  ;  he  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  sprang 
off  at  a  run.  "  My  friend,"  thought  I,  remounting, 
"  do  that  again,  and  I  will  shoot  you  !" 

Fort  Leavenworth  was  about  forty  miles  distant, 
and  thither  I  determined  to  follow  him.  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  spend  a  solitar\-  and  supperless  night, 
and  then  set  out  again  in  the  morning.  One  hope, 
however,  remained.  The  creek  where  the  wagon 
had  stuck  was  just  before  us  ;  Pontiac  might  be 
thirsty  with  his  run,  and  stop  there  to  drink.  I 
kept  as  near  to  him  as  possible,  taking  ever)-  pre- 
caution not  to  alarm  him  again  :  and  the  result 
proved  as  1  had  hoped  ;  for  he  walked  deliberately 
among  the  trees,  and  stooped  down  to  the  water. 
1  alighted,  dragged  old  Hendrick  through  the  mud, 
and  with  a  feeling  of  infinite  satisfaction  picked  up 
the  slimy  trail-rope,  and  twisted  it  three  times  round 
my  hand.      "  Now  let  me  see  you  get  away  again  I" 


''JUMPING  off:'  31 

I  thought,  as  I  remounted.  But  Pontiac  was  exceed- 
ingly rehictant  to  turn  back  ;  Hendrick,  too,  who 
had  evidently  flattered  himself  with  vain  hopes, 
showed  the  utmost  repugnance,  and  grumbled  in  a 
manner  peculiar  to  himself  at  being  compelled  to 
face  about.  A  smart  cut  of  the  whip  restored  his 
cheerfulness  ;  and  dragging  the  recovered  truant 
behind,  I  set  out  in  search  of  the  camp.  An  hour 
or  two  elapsed,  when,  near  sunset,  I  saw  the  tents, 
standing  on  a  rich  swell  of  the  prairie,  beyond  a 
line  of  woods,  while  the  bands  of  horses  were  feed- 
ing in  a  low  meadow  close  at  hand.  There  sat 
Jack  C,  cross-legged,  in  the  sun,  splicing  a  trail- 
rope,  and  the  rest  were  lying  on  the  grass,  smoking 
and  telling  stories.  That  night  we  enjoyed  a  sere- 
nade from  the  woh'es,  more  lively  than  any  with 
which  they  had  yet  favored  us  ;  and  in  the  morning 
one  of  the  musicians  appeared,  not  many  rods  from 
the  tents,  quietly  seated  among  the  horses,  looking 
at  us  with  a  pair  of  large  gray  eyes  ;  but  perceiv- 
ing a  rifle  levelled  at  him,  he  leaped  up  and  made 
off  in  hot  haste. 

I  pass  by  the  following  day  or  two  of  our  journey, 
for  nothing  occurred  worthy  of  record.  Should  any 
one  of  my  readers  ever  be  impelled  to  visit  the 
prairies,  and  should  he  choose  the  route  of  the 
■Platte  (the  best,  perhaps,  that  can  be  adopted),  I 
can  assure  him  that  he  need  not  think  to  enter  at 
once  upon  the  paradise  of  his  imagination.  A 
dreary  preliminary,  protracted  crossing  of  the 
threshold  awaits  him  before  he  finds  himself  fairly 
upon  the  verge  of  the  "great  American  desert"; 
those  barren  wastes,  the  haunts  of  the  buflalo  and 
the  Indian,  where  the  ver)'  shadow  of  civilization 
lies  a  hundred  leagues  behind  him.  The  interven- 
ing country,  the  wide  and  fertile  belt  that  extends 
for   several    hundred    miles    beyond    the    extreme 


^HE    C REG  ON  TRAIL. 


t  are 


may  journey 
the  hoof-pr!; 
prairie-hen  : 
Yet,  to  cc : 
ficiencv  of 


''JUMPING  off:'  33 

glide  away  from  under  his  horse's  feet  or  quietly 
visit  him  in  his  tent  at  night  ;  while  the  perti- 
nacious humming  of  unnumbered  mosquitoes  will 
banish  sleep  from  his  eyelids.  When  thirsty  with  a 
long  ride  in  the  scorching  sun  over  some  boundless 
reach  of  prairie,  he  comes  at  length  to  a  pool  of 
water,  and  alights  to  drink,  he  discovers  a  troop  of 
young  tadpoles  sporting  in  the  bottom  of  his  cup. 
Add  to  this  that  all  the  morning  the  sun  beats  upon 
him  with  a  sultry,  penetrating  heat,  and  that,  with 
provoking  regularity,  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  a  thunder-storm  rises  and  drenches  him 
to  the  skin.  Such  being  the  charms  of  this  favored 
region,  the  reader  will  easily  conceive  the  extent  of 
our  gratification  at  learning  that  for  a  week  we  had 
been  journeying  on  the  wrong  track  !  How  this 
agreeable  discovery  was  made  I  will  presently  ex- 
plain. 

One  day,  after  a  protracted  morning's  ride,  we 
stopped  to  rest  at  noon  upon  the  open  prairie.  No 
trees  were  in  sight  ;  but  close  at  hand  a  little  drib- 
bling brook  was  twisting  from  side  to  side  through  a 
hollow  ;  now  forming  holes  of  stagnant  water,  and 
now  gliding  over  the  mud  in  a  scarcely  perceptible 
current,  among  a  growth  of  sickly  bushes  and  great 
clumps  of  tall  rank  grass.  The  day  was  excessively 
hot  and  oppressive.  The  horses  and  mules  were 
rolling  on  the  prairie  to  refresh  themselves,  or  feed- 
ing among  the  bushes  in  the  hollow.  We  had 
dined  ;  and  Delorier,  puffing  at  his  pipe,  knelt  on 
the  grass,  scrubbing  our  service  of  tin-plate.  Shaw 
lay  in  the  shade,  under  the  cart,  to  rest  for  awhile, 
before  the  word  should  be  given  to  "catch  up." 
Henry  Chatillon,  before  lying  down,  was  looking 
about  for  signs  of  snakes,  the  only  living  things  that 
he  feared,  and  uttering  various  ejaculations  of  dis- 
gust at  finding  several  suspicious-looking  holes  close 

3 


34  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

to  the  carL  I  sat  leaning  against  the  wheel  in  a 
scanty  strip  of  shade,  making  a  pair  of  hobbles  to 
replace  those  which  my  contumacious  steed  Pontiac 
had  broken  the  night  before.  The  camp  of  our 
friends,  a  rod  or  two  distant,  presented  the  same 
scene  of  lazy  tranquiUit5\ 

"  Halloo  !"  cried  Henry,  looking  up  fiiom  his  in- 
spection of  the  snake-holes,  '  *  here  comes  the  old 
Captain  !" 

Hie  Captain  approached,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
contemplating  us  in  silence. 

"I  say,  Parkinan,"  he  began,  "look  at  Shaw 
there,  asleep  under  the  cart,  with  the  tar  dripping 
off  the  hub  of  the  wheel  on  his  shoulder  !" 

At  this  Shaw  got  up,  with  his  eyes  half  opened, 
and  feeling  the  part  indicated,  he  found  his  hand 
glued  &st  to  his  red  flannel  shirt. 

"  He'll  look  well,  when  he  gets  among  the  squaws, 
won't  he  ""  observed  the  Captain,  with  a  grin. 

He  then  crawled  under  die  cart,  and  began  to 
tell  stories,  of  which  his  stock  was  inexhaustible. 
Yet  every  moment  he  would  glance  nervously  at  the 
horses.  At  last  he  jumped  up  in  great  excitement. 
'•  See  that  horse  !  There — that  fellow  just  walking 
over  the  hill !  By  Jove  !  he's  off.  It's  your  big 
horse,  Shaw  :  no  it  isn't,  it's  Jack's.  Jack  !  Jack  ! 
halloo.  Jack  T'  Jack,  thus  invoked,  jumped  op  and 
stared  vacandy  at  us. 

•*  Go  and  catch  your  horse,  if  you  don't  want  to 
lose  him  !"  roared  the  Captain. 

Jack  instantly  set  off  at  a  run,  through  the  grass, 
his  broad  pantaloons  flapping  about  his  feet.  The 
Captain  gazed  anxiously  till  he  saw  that  the  horse 
was  caught ;  then  he  sat  down,  with  a  countenance 
of  thoughthilness  and  care. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  said,  "this  will  never 
do  at  alL     We  shall  lose  everv  hcHse  in  the  band 


"JUMPIXG    OFF."  35     f 

some  day  or  other,  and  then  a  pretty  phght  we 
should  be  in  I  Now  I  am  convinced  that  the  only 
way  for  us  is  to  have  ever}'  man  in  the  camp  stand 
horse-guard  in  rotation  whenever  we  stop.  Sup- 
posing a  hundred  Pawnees  should  jump  up  out  of 
that  ravine,  all  yelling  and  flapping  their  buffalo- 
robes,  in  the  way  they  do  ?  Why  in  two  minutes 
not  a  hoof  would  be  in  sight. ' '  We  reminded  the 
Captain  that  a  hundred  Pawnees  would  probably 
demolish  the  horse-guard  if  he  were  to  resist  their 
depredations. 

"  At  any  rate,"  pursued  the  Captain,  evading  the 
point,  "  our  whole  system  is  wrong  ;  I'm  convinced 
of  it  ;  it  is  totally  unmilitary.  W'hy  the  way  we 
travel,  strung  out  over  the  prairie  for  a  mile,  an 
enemy  might  attack  the  foremost  men  and  cut  them 
off  before  the  rest  could  come  up." 

"We  are  not  in  an  enemy's  country  yet,"  said 
Shaw  ;    "when  we  are,  we'll  travel  together." 

' '  Then, ' '  said  the  Captain,  ' '  we  might  be  attacked 
in  camp.  We've  no  sentinels  ;  we  camp  in  dis- 
order ;  no  precautions  at  all  to  guard  against  sur- 
prise. My  own  convictions  are  that  we  ought  to 
camp  in  a  hollow-square,  with  the  fires  in  the  cen- 
tre ;  and  have  sentinels  and  a  regular  password 
appointed  for  every  night.  Beside,  there  should  be 
videttes,  riding  in  advance,  to  find  a  place  for  the 
camp  and  give  warning  of  an  enemy.  These  are 
my  convictions.  I  don't  want  to  dictate  to  any  man. 
I  give  advice  to  the  best  of  my  judgment,  that's  all  ; 
and  then  let  people  do  as  they  please. 

We  intimated  that  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to 
postpone  such  burdensome  precautions  until  there 
should  be  some  actual  need  of  them  ;  but  he  shook 
his  head  dubiously.  The  Captain's  sense  of  mili- 
tary propriety  had  been  severely  shocked  by  what 
he   considered    the    irregular    proceedings    of   the 


36  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

pait>' ;  and  this  -was  not  the  first  time  he  had  ex- 
pressed himself  upon  the  subject.  But  his  con- 
victMHis  seldom  produced  any  practical  results.  In 
the  present  case  he  contented  himself,  as  usual,  -with 
enl^lgiiig  on  the  importance  of  his  suggestions  and 
wondoing  that  they  were  not  adopted.  But  his 
plan  of  sending  out  lidettes  seemed  particularly 
dear  to  him  ;  and  as  no  one  else  was  disposed  to 
seccmd  his  \-iews  on  this  point,  he  took  it  into  his 
head  to  ride  forward  that  afternoon  himself. 

"Come,  Parkman,"  said  he,  "will  you  go  ■with 
me?" 

We  set  out  together,  and  rode  a  mile  or  two  in 
advance.  The  Captain,  in  the  course  of  twenty 
years'  service  in  the  British  army,  had  seen  some- 
thing of  hfe  ;  one  extensive  side  of  it,  at  least,  he 
had  enjoyed  the  best  opportunities  for  stud},-ing  ; 
and  being  naturally  a  pleasant  fellow,  he  was  a  very 
entertaining  companion.  He  cracked  jokes  and  told 
Tories  for  an  hour  or  two  ;  until,  looking  back,  we 
saw  the  praiiie  behind  us  stretching  away  to  the 
horizon  without  a  horseman  or  a  wagon  in  sight. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  think  the  videttes 
had  better  stop  till  the  main  body  comes  up." 

I  was  of  the  same  opinion.  There  was  a  thick 
growth  of  woods  just  before  us  with  a  stream  run- 
ning through  them.  Having  crossed  this,  we  found 
on  the  other  side  a  fine  level  meadow,  half  encircled 
by  the  trees  ;  and  fastening  our  horses  to  some 
bushes,  we  sat  down  on  the  grass  ;  while,  with  an 
old  stump  of  a  tree  for  a  target,  I  began  to  display 
the  superiority'  of  the  renowned  rifle  of  the  back- 
woods over  the  foreign  innovation  borne  by  the  Cap- 
tain. At  length  voices  could  be  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance behind  the  trees. 

•'There  they  come!"  said  the  Captain;  "let's 
go  and  see  how  they  get  through  the  creek. 


''JUMPING  off:'  37 

We  mounted  and  rode  to  the  bank  of  the  stream 
where  the  trail  crossed  it.  It  ran  in  a  deep  hollow, 
full  of  trees  :  as  we  looked  down  we  saw  a  confused 
crowd  of  horsemen  riding  through  the  water  ;  and 
among  the  dingy  habiliments  of  our  party  glittered 
the  uniforms  of  four  dragoons. 

Shaw  came  whipping  his  horse  up  the  bank,  in 
advance  of  the  rest,  with  a  somewhat  indignant 
countenance.  The  first  word  he  spoke  was  a  bless- 
ing fervently  invoked  on  the  head  of  R.,  who  was 
riding,  with  a  crest-fallen  air,  in  the  rear.  Thanks 
to  the  ingenious  devices  of  this  gentleman,  we  had 
missed  the  track  entirely,  and  wandered,  not  toward 
the  Platte,  but  to  the  village  of  the  Iowa  Indians. 
This  we  learned  from  the  dragoons,  who  had  lately 
deserted  from  Fort  Leavenworth.  They  told  us  that 
our  best  plan  now  was  to  keep  to  the  northward 
until  we  should  strike  the  trail  formed  by  several 
parties  of  Oregon  emigrants,  who  had  that  season 
set  out  from  St.  Joseph's  in  Missouri. 

In  extremely  bad  temper  we  encamped  on  this 
ill-starred  spot  ;  while  the  deserters,  whose  case 
admitted  of  no  delay,  rode  rapidly  forward.  On 
the  day  following,  striking  the  St.  Joseph's  trail,  we 
turned  our  horses'  heads  toward  Fort  Laramie,  then 
about  seven  hundred  miles  to  the  westward. 


THE    "BIG   BLUM. 

-  A  man  so  vaiioas.  fhat  he  seemed  to  be 
Kot  one,  but  aO  mankind's  ephorae. 
Stiff  in  opinions,  always  in  die  wroi^. 
Was  eretydiing  by  starts,  and  nodiing  kH^ 
Bat  in  the  space  of  one  rev<Jving  moon. 
Was  gamester,  fhemist.  fiddler,  and  buffoon." 

DKVDE38. 

The  great  medley  of  Or^non  and  California  emi- 
granls.  at  their  camps  aroimd  Independence,  had 
heard  rqmits  that  several  additional  paities  were  tm 
the  point  of  settii^  out  from  St.  Jos^h's.  Cutho-  to 
the  noitfawanL  The  prevailii^  impression  was  diat 
these  were  Mormons,  twenty-lhree  hundred  in  num- 
ber, and  a  great  alarm  was  excited  in  consequence. 
The  people  of  niinms  and  Missonii,  wfaocomposedby 
ferihe  greater  part  of  the  onigrants.  hare  never  been 
on  the  best  tenns  with  the  "  Latter-day  Saints";  and 
it  is  notorious  throi^;hont  the  cotrntry  how  much  Uood 
has  been  S|Hlt  in  their  feuds,  even  bar  within  the 
limits  of  die  settlements.  No  one  could  predict  what 
would  be  the  resnk  wiien  laige  armed  bodies  cf 
these  ^nalics  shoidd  encounto*  the  most  impetuous 
and  reckless  (rf'dieir  old  enemies  cm  the  broad  prai- 
rie, far  beyond  the  reach  of  law  or  militaiy  fiorce. 
The  women  and  children  at  Indqiendence  raised  a 
great  outcry ;  the  men  themselves  were  seriously 
alarmed ;  and.  as  I  learned,  they  sent  to  Colond 
Kearney,  requesting  an  escort  cf  dragoons  as  far  as 
the  Platte.  This  was  reliised :  and  as  the  sequel 
proved  there  was  no  occaaon  for  it.  The  SL  Jo- 
seph's emigrants  were  as  good  Chitstians  and  as 
zealous  Mormon-hateis  as  die  rest ;  and  die  very 
Z& 


THE   ''BIG  BLUEy  39 

few  families  of  the  ' '  saints ' '  who  passed  out  this 
season  by  the  route  of  the  Platte  remained  behind 
until  the  great  tide  of  emigration  had  gone  by  ; 
standing  in  quite  as  much  awe  of  the  '  •  gentiles  ' '  as 
the  latter  did  of  them. 

We  were  now,  as  I  before  mentioned,  upon  this 
St.  Joseph's  trail.  It  was  evident,  by  the  traces, 
that  large  parties  were  a  few  days  in  advance  of  us  ; 
and  as  we  too  supposed  them  to  be  Mormons,  we 
had  some  apprehension  of  interruption. 

The  journey  was  somewhat  monotonous.  One 
day  we  rode  on  for  hours  without  seeing  a  tree  or  a 
bush  :  before,  behind,  and  on  either  side  stretched 
the  vast  expanse,  rolling  in  a  succession  of  graceful 
swells,  covered  with  the  unbroken  carpet  of  fresh 
green  grass.  Here  and  there  a  crow,  or  a  raven, 
or  a  turkey -buzzard  relieved  the  uniformity-. 

'  •  WTiat  shall  we  do  to-night  for  wood  and 
water  ?" '  we  began  to  ask  of  each  other  :  for  the  sun 
was  within  an  hour  of  setting.  At  length  a  dark 
green  speck  appeared,  far  off  on  the  right ;  it  was 
the  top  of  a  tree,  peering  over  a  swell  of  the  prairie  ; 
and  leaving  the  trail,  we  made  all  haste  toward  it. 
It  proved  to  be  the  vanguard  of  a  cluster  of  bushes 
and  low  trees,  that  surrounded  some  pools  of  water 
in  an  extensive  hollow  ;  so  we  encamped  on  the 
rising  ground  near  it. 

Shaw  and  I  were  sitting  in  the  tent  when  Delorier 
thrust  his  brown  face  and  old  felt  hat  into  the  open- 
ing, and  dilating  his  eyes  to  their  utmost  e.xtent, 
announced  supper.  There  were  the  tin  cups  and 
the  iron  spoons  arranged  in  military-  order  on  the 
grass,  and  the  coffee-pot  predominant  in  the  midst. 
The  meal  was  soon  dispatched  ;  but  Henr}-  Chatillon 
still  sat  cross-legged,  dallying  with  the  remnant  of 
his  coffee,  the  beverage  in  universal  use  upon  the 
prairie,   and  an  especial   favorite  with  him.      He 


40  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

preferred  it  in  its  virgin  flavor,  unimpaired  by  sugar 
or  cream  :  and  on  the  present  occasion  it  met  his 
entire  approval,  being  exceedingly  strong,  or  as  he 
expressed  it,  ' '  right  black. 

It  was  a  rich  and  gorgeous  sunset — an  American 
sunset  ;  and  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  sky  was  reflected 
from  some  extensive  pools  of  water  among  the 
shadowy  copses  in  the  meadow  below. 

"I  must  have  a  bath  to-night,"  said  Shaw. 
"How  is  it,  Delorier?  Any  chance  for  a  sw-im 
down  there  ?' ' 

*' Ah  !  I  cannot  tell  ;  just  as  you  please.  Mon- 
sieur." replied  Delorier,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
perplexed  by  his  ignorance  of  English,  and  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  conform  in  all  respects  to  the 
opinions  and  wishes  of  his  bourgeois. 

"  Look  at  his  moccason."  said  I.  It  had  evi- 
dently been  lately  immersed  in  a  profound  abyss  of 
black  mud. 

' '  Come, ' '  said  Shaw  ;  "at  any  rate  we  can  see 
for  ourselves. 

We  set  out  together  ;  and  as  we  approached  the 
bushes,  which  were  at  some  distance,  we  found  the 
ground  becoming  rather  treacherous.  We  could 
only  get  along  by  stepping  upon  large  climips  of 
tall  rank  grass,  with  fathomless  gulfs  between,  like 
innumerable  little  quaking  islands  in  an  ocean  of 
mud,  where  a  false  step  would  have  involved  our 
boots  in  a  catastrophe  like  that  which  had  befallen 
Delorier' s  moccasons.  The  thing  looked  desperate  : 
we  separated,  so  as  to  search  in  different  directions, 
Shaw  going  off  to  the  right,  while  I  kept  straight 
forward.  At  last  I  came  to  the  edge  of  the  bushes  : 
they  were  young  water- willows ,  covered  with  their 
caterpillar-like  blossoms,  but  inten-ening  between 
them  and  the  last  grass  climip  was  a  black  and 
deep  slough,  over  which,  by  a  vigorous  exertion,  I 


THE   ''BIG   BLUE."  4 1 

contrived  to  jump.  Then  I  shouldered  my  way- 
through  the  willows,  trampling  them  down  by  main 
force,  till  I  came  to  a  wide  stream  of  water,  three 
inches  deep,  languidly  creeping  along  over  a  bottom 
of  sleek  mud.  My  arrival  produced  a  great  com- 
motion. A  huge  green  bull-frog  uttered  an  indig- 
nant croak,  and  jumped  off  the  bank  with  a  loud 
splash  :  his  webbed  feet  twinkled  above  the  surface 
as  he  jerked  them  energetically  upward,  and  I 
could  see  him  ensconcing  himself  in  the  unresisting 
slime  at  the  bottom,  whence  several  large  air- 
bubbles  struggled  lazily  to  the  top.  Some  little 
spotted  frogs  instantly  followed  the  patriarch's  ex- 
ample ;  and  then  three  turtles,  not  larger  than  a 
dollar,  tumbled  themselves  off  a  broad  "  lily  pad," 
where  they  had  been  reposing.  At  the  same  time 
a  snake,  gayly  striped  with  black  and  yellow,  glided 
out  from  the  bank,  and  writhed  across  to  the  other 
side  ;  and  a  small  stagnant  pool,  into  which  my 
foot  had  inadvertently  pushed  a  stone,  was  instantly 
alive  with  a  congregation  of  black  tadpoles. 

"  Any  chance  for  a  bath,  where  you  are  ?"  called 
out  Shaw,  from  a  distance. 

The  answer  was  not  encouraging.  I  retreated 
through  the  willows,  and  rejoining  my  companion, 
we  proceeded  to  push  our  researches  in  company. 
Not  far  on  the  right,  a  rising  ground,  covered  with 
trees  and  bushes,  seemed  to  sink  down  abruptly  to 
the  water,  and  give  hope  of  better  success  ;  so  to- 
ward this  we  directed  our  steps.  When  we  reached 
the  place  we  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  get  along 
between  the  hill  and  the  water,  impeded  as  we 
were  by  a  growth  of  stiff,  obstinate  young  birch 
trees,  laced  together  by  grape-vines.  In  the  twilight 
we  now  and  then,  to  support  ourselves,  snatched  at 
the  touch-me-not  stem  of  some  ancient  sweet-brier. 
Shaw,    who    was   in   advance,    suddenly   uttered   a 


42  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

somewhat  emphatic  monosyllable  ;  and,  looking  up, 
I  saw  him  with  one  hand  grasping  a  sapling  and 
one  foot  immersed  in  the  water,  from  which  he  had 
forgotten  to  withdraw  it.  his  whole  attention  being 
engaged  in  contemplating  the  movements  of  a 
water-snake  about  five  feet  long,  curiously  check- 
ered with  black  and  green,  who  was  deliberately 
swimming  across  the  pool.  There  being  no  stick 
or  stone  at  hand  to  pelt  him  with,  we  looked  at  him 
for  a  time  in  silent  disgust  ;  and  then  pushed  for- 
ward. Our  perseverance  was  at  last  rewarded  ;  for 
several  rods  farther  on  we  emerged  upon  a  little 
level  grassy  nook  among  the  brushwood,  and  by  an 
extraordinary-  dispensation  of  fortune,  the  weeds  and 
floating  sticks,  which  elsewhere  covered  the  pool, 
seemed  to  have  drawn  apart,  and  left  a  few  yards 
of  clear  water  just  in  front  of  this  favored  spot.  We 
sounded  it  with  a  stick  ;  it  was  four  feet  deep  :  we  lifted 
a  specimen  in  our  closed  hands  ;  it  seemed  reason- 
ably transparent,  so  we  decided  that  the  time  for  ac- 
tion was  arrived.  But  our  ablutions  were  suddenly 
interrupted  by  ten  thousand  punctures,  like  poisoned 
needles,  and  the  humming  of  myriads  of  overgrown 
mosquitoes,  rising  in  all  directions  from  their  native 
mud  and  slime  and  swarming  to  the  feast.  We 
were  fain  to  beat  a  retreat  with  all  possible  speed. 

We  made  toward  the  tents,  much  refreshed  by  the 
bath,  which  the  heat  of  the  weather,  joined  to  our 
prejudices,  had  rendered  very  desirable. 

■ '  WTiat"  s  the  matter  with  the  Captain  ?  look  at 
him  I"  said  Shaw.  The  Captain  stood  alone  on 
the  prairie,  swinging  his  hat  violently  around  his 
head,  and  lifting  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other, 
without  moving  from  the  spot.  First  he  looked 
down  to  the  ground  with  an  air  of  supreme  abhor- 
rence ;  then  he  gazed  upward  with  a  perplexed  and 
indignant  countenance,  as  if  trying  to  trace  the  flight 


THE    ''BIG   BLUE."  43 

of  an  unseen  enemy.  We  called  to  know  what  was 
the  matter ;  but  he  replied  only  by  execrations 
directed  against  some  unknown  object.  We  ap- 
proached, when  our  ears  were  saluted  by  a  droning 
sound,  as  if  twenty  bee-hives  had  been  overturned  at 
once.  The  air  above  was  full  of  large  black  insects_ 
in  a  state  of  great  commotion,  and  multitudes  were 
flying  about  just  above  the  tops  of  the  grass-blades. 
"  Don't  be  afraid,"  called  the  Captain,  observing 
us  recoil.  "  The  brutes  won't  sting." 
'  At  this  I  knocked  one  down  with  my  hat,  and 
discovered  him  to  be  no  other  than  a  "dor-bug"; 
and  looking  closer,  we  found  the  ground  thickly 
perforated  with  their  holes. 

We  took  a  hasty  leave  of  this  flourishing  colony, 
and  walking  up  the  rising  ground  to  the  tents,  found 
Delorier's  fire  still  glowing  brightly.  We  sat  down 
around  it,  and  Shaw  began  to  e.xpatiate  on  the  ad- 
mirable facilities  for  bathing  that  we  had  discovered, 
and  recommended  the  Captain  by  all  means  to  go 
down  there  before  breakfast  in  the  morning.  The 
Captain  was  in  the  act  of  remarking  that  he  couldn't 
have  believed  it  possible,  when  he  suddenly  inter- 
rupted himself  and  clapped  his  hand  to  his  cheek, 
e.xclaiming  that  "those  infernal  humbugs  were  at 
him  again."  In  fact,  we  began  to  hear  sounds  as 
if  bullets  were  humming  over  our  heads.  In  a 
moment  something  rapped  me  sharply  on  the  fore- 
head, then  upon  the  neck,  and  immediately  1  felt 
an  indefinite  number  of  sharp  wir^-  claws  in  active 
motion,  as  if  their  owner  were  bent  on  pushing  his 
explorations  farther.  1  seized  him  and  dropped  him 
into  the  fire.  Our  party  speedily  broke  up,  and  we 
adjourned  to  our  respective  tents,  where,  closing  the 
opening  fast,  we  hoped  to  be  exempt  from  invasion. 
But  all  precaution  was  fruitless.  The  dor-bugs 
hummed  through  the  tent  and  marched  over  our 


44  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

faces  until  daylight ;  when,  opening  our  blankets, 
we  found  several  dozen  clinging  there  vs-ith  the  ut- 
most tenacit}-.  The  first  object  that  met  our  eyes 
in  the  morning  was  Delorier,  who  seemed  to  be 
apostrophizing  his  fiying-pan,  which  he  held  by  the 
handle,  at  arm's  length.  It  appeared  that  he  had 
left  it  at  night  by  the  fire  ;  and  the  bottom  was  now 
covered  -with  dor-bugs,  firmly  imbedded.  Multi- 
tudes besides,  curiously  parched  and  shrivelled,  lay 
scattered  among  the  ashes. 

The  horses  and  mules  were  turned  loose  to  feed. 
We  had  just  taken  our  seats  at  breakfast,  or  rather 
reclined  in  the  classic  mode,  Mhen  an  exclamation 
from  Henry-  Chatillon,  and  a  shout  of  alarm  from 
the  Captain,  gave  warning  of  some  casualty,  and 
looking  up,  we  saw  the  whole  band  of  animals, 
twenty-three  in  number,  filing  off  for  the  settle- 
ments, the  incorrigible  ,Pontiac  at  their  head,  jump- 
ing along  with  hobbled  feetr"?«t^  a  gait  much  more 
rapid  than  graceful.  Three  or  four  of  us  ran  to  cut 
them  off,  dashing  as  best  we  might  through  the  tall 
grass  which  was  glittering  with  myriads  of  dew- 
drops.  After  a  race  of  a  mile  or  more  Shaw  caught 
a  horse.  TAing  the  trail-rope  by  way  of  bridle 
round  the  animal's  jaw,  and  leaping  upon  his  back, 
he  got  in  advance  of  the  remaining  fugitives,  while 
we,  soon  bringing  them  together,  drove  them  in  a 
crowd  up  to  the  tents,  where  each  man  caught  and 
saddled  his  o-wn.  Then  were  heard  lamentations 
and  curses  :  for  half  the  horses  had  broke  their 
hobbles,  and  many  were  seriously  galled  by  attempt- 
ing to  run  in  fetters. 

It  was  late  that  morning  before  we  were  on  the 
march  ;  and  early  in  the  afternoon  we  were  com- 
pelled to  encamp,  for  a  thunder-gust  came  up  and 
suddenly  enveloped  us  in  whirling  sheets  of  rain. 
With  much  ado  we  pitched  our  tents  amid  the  tem- 


THE  ''BIG  blue:'  45 

pest,  and  all  night  long  the  thunder  bellowed  and 
growled  over  our  heads.  In  the  morning,  light 
peaceful  showers  succeeded  the  cataracts  of  rain 
that  had  been  drenching  us  through  the  canvas  of 
our  tents.  About  noon,  when  there  vi'ere  some 
treacherous  indications  of  fair  weather,  we  got  in 
motion  again. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  over  the  free  and  open 
prairie  :  the  clouds  were  like  light  piles  of  cotton  ; 
and  where  the  blue  sky  was  visible,  it  wore  a  hazy 
and  languid  aspect.  The  sun  beat  down  upon  us 
with  a  sultry  penetrating  heat  almost  insupportable, 
and  as  our  party  crept  slowly  along  over  the  inter- 
minable level,  the  horses  hung  their  heads  as  they 
waded  fetlock  deep  through  the  mud,  and  the  men 
slouched  inio  the  easiest  position  upon  the  saddle. 
At  last,  toward  evening,  the  old  familiar  black 
heads  of  thunder-clouds  rose  fast  above  the  horizon, 
and  the  same  deep  muttering  of  distant  thunder  that 
had  become  the  ordinary  accompaniment  of  our 
afternoon's  journey  began  to  roll  hoarsely  over  the 
prairie.  Only  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before  the 
whole  sky  was  densely  shrouded,  and  the  prairie 
and  some  clusters  of  woods  in  front  assumed  a 
purple  hue  beneath  the  inky  shadows."  Suddenly 
from  the  densest  fold  of  the  cloud  the  flash  leaped 
out,  quivering  again  and  again  down  to  the  edge  of 
the  prairie  ;  and  at  the  same  instant  came  the  sharp 
burst  and  the  long  rolling  peal  of  the  thunder.  A 
cool  wind,  filled  with  the  smell  of  rain,  just  then 
overtook  us,  levelling  the  tall  grass  by  the  side  of 
the  path. 

"Come  on;  we  must  ride  for  it!"  shouted 
Shaw,  rushing  past  at  full  speed,  his  led  horse  snort- 
ing at  his  side.  The  whole  party  broke  into  full 
gallop,  and  made  for  the  trees  in  front.  Passing 
these,  we  found  beyond  them  a  meadow  which  they 


46  THE    O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

half  inclosed.  We  rode  pell-mell  upon  the  ground, 
leaped  from  horseback,  tore  off  our  saddles  ;  and  in 
a  moment  each  man  was  kneeling  at  his  horse's 
feet.  The  hobbles  were  adjusted,  and  the  animals 
turned  loose  ;  then,  as  the  wagons  came  wheeling 
rapidly  to  the  spot,  we  seized  upon  the  tent-poles, 
and  just  as  the  storm  broke  we  were  prepared  to 
receive  it.  It  came  upon  us  almost  with  the  dark- 
ness of  night  :  the  trees  which  were  close  at  hand 
were  completely  shrouded  by  the  roaring  tonents 
of  rain. 

We  were  sitting  in  the  tent,  when  Delorier,  with 
his  broad  felt  hat  hanging  about  his  ears  and  his 
shoulders  glistening  with  rain,  thrust  in  his  head. 

"  Voulez  vous  du  souper,  tout  de  suite?  I  can 
make  fire,  sous  la  charette — I  b'lieve  so — I  try." 

"  Never  mind  supper,  man  ;  come  in  out  of  the 
rain. ' ' 

Delorier  accordingly  crouched  in  the  entrance, 
for  modest}-  would  not  permit  him  to  intrude  farther. 

Our  tent  was  none  of  the  best  defence  against 
such  a  cataract.  The  rain  could  not  enter  bodily, 
but  it  beat  through  the  canvas  in  a  fine  drizzle  that 
wetted  us  just  as  effectually.  We  sat  upon  our 
saddles  with  faces  of  the  utmost  surliness,  while  the 
water  dropped  from  the  vizors  of  our  caps  and 
trickled  down  our  cheeks.  My  india-rubber  cloak 
conducted  twenty  little  rapid  streamlets  to  the 
ground  ;  and  Shaw' s  blanket  coat  was  saturated 
like  a  sponge.  But  what  most  concerned  us  was  the 
sight  of  several  puddles  of  water  rapidly  accumu- 
lating ;  one,  in  particular,  that  was  gathering  around 
the  tent-pole,  threatened  to  overspread  the  whole 
area  within  the  tent,  holding  forth  but  an  indifferent 
promise  of  a  comfortable  night's  rest.  Toward  sun- 
set, however,  the  storm  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it 
began.     A  bright  streak  of  clear  red  sky  appeared 


THE  ''BIG  blue:'  47 

above  the  western  verge  of  the  prairie,  the  horizon- 
tal rays  of  the  sinking  sun  streamed  through  it,  and 
ghttered  in  a  thousand  prismatic  colors  upon  the 
dripping  groves  and  the  prostrate  grass.  The  pools 
in  the  tent  dwindled  and  sank  into  the  saturated 
soil. 

But  all  our  hopes  were  delusive.  Scarcely  had 
night  set  in  when  the  tumult  broke  forth  anew.  The 
thunder  here  is  not  like  the  tame  thunder  of  the 
Atlantic  coast.  Bursting  with  a  terrific  crash  directly 
above  our  heads,  it  roared  over  the  boundless  waste 
of  prairie,  seeming  to  roll  around  the  whole  circle 
of  the  firmament  with  a  peculiar  and  awful  rever- 
beration. The  lightning  flashed  all  night,  playing 
with  its  livid  glare  upon  the  neighboring  trees,  re- 
vealing the  vast  expanse  of  the  plain,  and  then 
leaving  us  shut  in  as  if  by  a  palpable  wall  of  dark- 
ness. 

It  did  not  disturb  us  much.  Now  and  then  a  peal 
awakened  us,  and  made  us  conscious  of  the  electric 
battle  that  was  raging,  and  of  the  floods  that  dashed 
upon  the  stanch  canvas  over  our  heads.  We  lay 
upon  india-rubber  cloths,  placed  between  our 
blankets  and  the  soil.  For  a  while  they  e.xcluded 
the  water  to  admiration  ;  but  when  at  length  it  accu- 
mulated and  began  to  run  over  the  edges,  they 
served  equally  well  to  retain  it,  so  that  toward  the 
end  of  the  night  we  were  unconsciously  reposing  in 
small  pools  of  rain. 

On  finally  awakening  in  the  morning  the  prospect 
was  not  a  cheerful  one.  The  rain  no  longer  poured 
in  torrents,  but  it  pattered  with  a  quiet  pertinacity 
upon  the  strained  and  saturated  canvas.  We  dis- 
engaged ourselves  from  our  blankets,  every  fibre  of 
which  glistened  with  little  bead-like  drops  of  water, 
and  looked  out  in  the  vain  hope  of  discovering  some 
token  of  fair  weather.     The  clouds,  in  lead-colored 


48  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

volumes,  rested  upon  the  dismal  verge  of  the  prairi  j, 
or  hung  sluggishly  overhead,  while  the  earth  wore 
an  aspect  no  more  attractive  than  the  heavens,  ex- 
hibiting nothing  but  pools  of  water,  grass  beaten 
down,  and  mud  well  trampled  by  our  mules  and 
horses.  Our  companions"  tent,  with  an  air  of  for- 
lorn and  passive  miser\',  and  their  wagons  in  like 
manner,  drenched  and  woe-begone,  stood  not  far 
off.  The  Captain  was  just  returning  from  his  morn- 
ing's inspection  of  the  horses.  He  stalked  through 
the  mist  and  rain  with  his  plaid  around  his  shoulders, 
his  little  pipe,  dingy  as  an  antiquarian  relic,  pro- 
jecting from  beneath  his  moustache,  and  his  brother 
Jack  at  his  heels. 

"  Good  morning.  Captain." 

"Good  morning  to  your  honors,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, affecting  the  Hibernian  accent  ;  but  at  that 
instant,  as  he  stooped  to  enter  the  tent,  he  tripped 
upon  the  cords  at  the  entrance,  and  pitched  forward 
against  the  guns  which  were  strapped  around  the 
pole  in  the  centre. 

"You  are  nice  men,  you  are  1"  said  he,  after  an 
ejaculation  not  necessar)-  to  be  recorded,  "to  set  a 
man-trap  before  your  door  every  morning  to  catch 
your  visitors." 

Then  he  sat  down  upon  Henr)-  Chatillon's  saddle. 
We  tossed  a  piece  of  buffalo-robe  to  Jack,  who  was 
looking  about  in  some  embarrassment.  He  spread 
it  on  the  ground,  and  took  his  seat,  with  a  stolid 
countenance,  at  his  brother's  side. 

"  Exhilarating  weather.  Captain." 

"Oh,  delightful,  delightful!"  replied  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "I  knew  it  would  be  so  ;  so  much  for  starting 
yesterday  at  noon  I  I  knew  how  it  would  turn  out  ; 
and  I  said  so  at  the  time.  " 

' '  You  said  just  the  contrar\^  to  us.  We  were  in  no 
hurr\',  and  only  moved  because  you  insisted  on  it." 


THE   "BIG   BLUEr  49 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Captain,  taking  his  pipe 
trom  his  mouth  with  an  air  of  extreme  crravit>-  • '  it 
was  no  plan  of  mine.  There's  a  man  among  us 
who  is  determined  to  have  ever^■thing  his  own  way 
\  ou  may  express  your  opinion  ;  but  don't  expect 
him  to  listen.  You  may  be  as  reasonable  as  vou 
hke  ;  oh,  it  all  goes  for  nothing  1  That  man  is're- 
solved  to  rule  the  roast,  and  he'll  set  his  face  a^^ainst 
any  plan  that  he  didn't  think  of  himself." 

The  Captain  puffed  for  awhile  at  his  pipe  as  if 
meditating  upon  his  grievances  ;  then  he  'becxan 
again.  '^ 

' '  For  twenty  years  I  have  been  in  the  British 
army  ;  and  in  aU  that  time  I  never  had  half  so 
much  dissension,  and  quarrelHng,  and  nonsense  as 
since  I  have  been  on  this  cursed  prairie.  He's  the 
most  uncomfortable  man  I  ever  met. ' ' 

"\es;"   said  Jack,  "and  don't  vou  know,  BiU 
how  he  drank  up  all  the  coffee  last'  night,  and  put 
the  rest  by  for  himself  till  the  morning  !" 

"He  pretends  to  know  ever>-thing, '"•  resumed  the 
captain  ;  "nobody  must  give  orders  but  he  '  It's 
oh  !  we  must  do  this  ;  and.  oh  !  we  must  do  that  • 
and  the  tent  must  be  pitched  here,  and  the  horses 
must  be  picketed  there  ;  for  nobodv  knows  as  weU 
as  he  does.  ' 

We  were  a  little  surprised  at  this  disclosure  of 
domestic  dissensions  among  our  allies,  for  though 
we  knew  of  their  existence,  we  were  not  aware 
of  their  extent.  The  persecuted  Captain  seeming 
wholly  at  a  loss  as  to  the  course  of  conduct  that  he 
should  pursue,  we  recommended  him  to  adopt 
prompt  and  energetic  measures  ;  but  all  his  military 
expenence  had  failed  to  teach  him  the  indispensable 
lesson,  to  be  "hard"  when  the  emergency  re- 
quires it. 

"For  twenty  years."  he  repeated,  "  I  have  been 


50  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

in  the  Biitish  anny,  and  in  that  time  I  have  been  in- 
timatdy  acquainted  with  some  two  hundred  <ri£cets, 
yoong  and  old.  and  I  never  yet  quarrdled  with 
any  man.  'Oh,  anything  for  a  quiet:  hfef  Aat's 
my  maxim." 

We  intimated  that  the  praiiie  was  hardly  the 
place  to  enjoy  a  quiet  life,  hot  that,  in  the  presoit 
circumstance,  die  best  diing  he  could  do  toward 
securing  his  wi^ed-for  tranquillity  was  inmiediatdy 
to  put  a  period  to  die  nuisance  that  dtstmbed  iL 
But  again  the  Captain's  easy  good  natnre  recoiled 
from  the  task.  The  somewhat  Tigmous  measures 
necessary  to  gain  die  desired  result  were  utteriy 
repi^nant  to  him ;  he  prefened  to  pocket  his 
grievances,  still  retaining  the  privilege  of  gnnn- 
bling  about  them.  "Oh.  anythii^  for  a  quiet 
life  :"  he  said  again,  aiding  back  to  his  fe^vcr'te 
maxim. 

Birt  to  glance  at  die  previous  history  of  our    -;r  r- 
atlandc  confederate     The  Captain  had  5     \ 
commission,  and  was  fivii^  in  bachelor  ea  f  r   :. '  ~ 
d^nity  in   his   patonal  halls,   near  Dubl:-       He 
hunted,  fidied,  rode  steeple-chases,  ran  ra : 
talked  of  his  former  expl<Hts.     He  was  sun 
with  the  trophies  of  his  rod  and  gun  ;  the  wa  . . 
plaitifoUy  garnished,  he  told  us.  with  mocsr--     7^ ; 
and  deer-^ioms,  bear-skins  and  fox-tails  :  :  ~  r 

Captain's  double-bairdled  rifle  had  seoi  se-      v    - 
CanaHa  and  Jamaica ;  he  had  kiDed  safanon  :: 
Scotia,  and  trout,  by  his  own  account,  ir  r 

streams  of  the  three  kingdoons.  But  inane  . 
a  seductive  strainer  came  from  Londmi ;  r 
peison  than  R.;  who.  among  other  multir.  r 
wandoings.  had  once  been  upon  the  western  : 
and.  naturally  enoD^[fa.  was  anxious  to  vi- 
again.  The  Captain's  imagination  was  infi^ 
the  pictures  of  a  hunto-'s  paradise  that  his   ...es: 


THE   ''BIG  blue:'  5 1 

held  forth  ;  he  conceived  an  ambition  to  add  to  his 
other  trophies  the  horns  of  a  buffalo  and  the  claws 
of  a  grizzly  bear  ;  so  he  and  R.  struck  a  league  to 
travel  in  company.  Jack  followed  his  brother  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Two  weeks  on  board  of  the 
Atlantic  steamer  brought  them  to  Boston  ;  in  two 
weeks  more  of  hard  travelling  they  reached  St. 
Louis,  from  which  a  ride  of  six  days  carried  them  to 
the  frontier  ;  and  here  we  found  them,  in  the  full 
tide  of  preparation  for  their  journey. 

We  had  been  throughout  on  terms  of  intimacy 
with  the  Captain,  but  R.,  the  motive  power  of  our 
companions'  branch  of  the  expedition,  was  scarcely 
known  to  us.  His  voice,  indeed,  might  be  heard 
incessantly  ;  but  at  camp  he  remained  chiefly  within 
the  tent,  and  on  the  road  he  either  rode  by  himself 
or  else  remained  in  close  conversation  with  his  friend 
Wright,  the  muleteer.  As  the  Captain  left  the  tent 
that  morning  I  observed  R.  standing  by  the  fire, 
and,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  I  determined  to 
ascertain,  if  possible,  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 
He  had  a  book  under  his  arm,  but  just  at  present 
he  was  engrossed  in  actively  superintending  the 
operations  of  Sorel,  the  hunter,  who  was  cooking 
some  corn-bread  over  the  coals  for  breakfast.  R. 
was  a  well-formed  and  rather  good-looking  man, 
some  thirty  years  old  ;  considerably  younger  than 
the  Captain.  He  wore  a  beard  and  moustache  of 
the  oakum  complexion,  and  his  attire  was  altogether 
more  elegant  than  one  ordinarily  sees  on  the  prairie. 
He  wore  his  cap  on  one  side  of  his  head  ;  his  checked 
shirt,  open  in  front,  was  in  ven.-  neat  order,  consid- 
ering the  circumstances,  and  his  blue  pantaloons, 
of  the  John  Bull  cut,  might  once  have  figured  in 
Bond  Street. 

"  Turn  over  that  cake,  man  !  turn  it  over  quick  ! 
Don't  you  see  it  burning  ?" 


LIBRARY 


52  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

"It  ain't  half-done,"  growled  Sorel,  in  the 
amiable  tone  of  a  whipped  bull-dog. 

"  It  is.     Turn  it  oyer,  I  tell  you  I" 

Sorel,  a  strong,  sullen-looking  Canadian,  who, 
from  having  spent  his  life  among  the  wildest  and 
most  remote  of  the  Indian  tribes,  had  imbibed 
much  of  their  dark  vindictive  spirit,  looked  fero- 
ciously up,  as  if  he  longed  to  leap  upon  his  bourgeois 
and  throttle  him  ;  but  he  obeyed  the  order,  coming 
from  so  experienced  an  artist. 

"It  was  a  good  idea  of  yours,"  said  I,  seating 
myself  on  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  ' '  to  bring  Indian 
meal  with  you." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  R.,  "it's  good  bread  for  the 
prairie — good  bread  for  the  prairie.  I  tell  you 
that's   burning  again." 

Here  he  stooped  down,  and  unsheathing  the 
silver-mounted  hunting-knife  in  his  belt,  began  to 
perform  the  part  of  cook  himself ;  at  the  same  time 
requesting  me  to  hold  for  a  moment  the  book  under 
his  arm,  which  interfered  with  the  exercise  of  these 
important  functions.  I  opened  it  ;  it  was  Mac  an  lay  s 
Lays;  and  I  made  some  remark,  expressing  my 
admiration  of  the  work. 

"Yes,  yes  ;  a  pretty  good  thing.  Macaulay  can 
do  better  than  that,  though.  1  know  him  very  well. 
I  have  travelled  with  him.  Where  was  it  we  met 
first — at  Damascus  ?     No,  no  ;  it  was  in  Italy." 

"So,"  said  I,  "you  have  been  over  the  same 
ground  with  your  countr\-man,  the  author  of  Eothen  ? 
There  has  been  some  discussion  in  America  as  to  who 
he  is.      I  have  heard  Milnes's  name  mentioned." 

"  Milnes  ?  Oh,  no,  no,  no;  not  at  all.  It  was 
Kinglake  ;  Kinglake's  the  man.  I  know  him  verj- 
well  ;  that  is,  1  have  seen  him." 

Here  Jack  C,  who  stood  by,  interposed  a  remark 
(a  thing  not  common  with  him),  observing  that  he 


THE   "BIG  BLUEV     .  53 

thought  the  weather  would  become  £air  before  twelve 
o'clock. 

"  It's  going  to  rain  aU  day,"  said  R.,  "and  clear 
up  in  the  middle  of  the  night." 

Just  then  the  clouds  began  to  dissipate  in  a  very 
unequivocal  manner  ;  but  Jack,  not  caring  to  defend 
his  point  against  so  authoritative  a  declaration, 
walked  away  whisding,  and  we  resumed  our  con- 
versation. 

"Borrow,  the  author  of  The  Bible  in  Spain,  I 
presume  you  know  him,  too?" 

"  Oh,  certainly  ;  I  know  aU  those  men.  By  the 
way,  they  told  me  that  one  of  your  .\merican  writers. 
Judge  Stor%-,  had  died  lately.  1  edited  some  of  his 
works  in  London  ;  not  without  faults,  though." 

Here  followed  an  erudite  commentary-  on  certain 
points  of  law,  in  which  he  particularly  animadverted 
on  the  errors  into  which  he  considered  that  the 
judge  had  been  betrayed.  At  length,  having 
touched  successively  on  an  infinite  varietj.'  of  topics, 
I  found  that  I  had  the  happiness  of  discovering  a 
man  equally  competent  to  enlighten  me  upon  them 
all,  equally  an  authority-  on  matters  of  science  or 
literature,  philosophy  or  fashion.  The  part  I  bore 
in  the  conversation  was  by  no  means  a  prominent 
one  :  it  was  only  necessary-  to  set  him  going,  and 
when  he  had  run  long  enough  upon  one  topic,  to 
divert  him  to  another,  and  lead  him  on  to  pour  out 
his  heaps  of  treasure  in  succession. 

' '  What  has  that  fellow  been  saying  to  you  ?' '  said 
Shaw,  as  1  returned  to  the  tent.  ' '  I  have  heard 
nothing  but  his  talking  for  the  last  half-hour." 

R.  had  none  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  the  ordinary' 
' '  British  snob  ' ' ;  his  absurdities  were  all  his  own, 
belonging  to  no  particular  nation  or  chme.  He  was 
possessed  with  an  active  devil  that  had  driven  him 
over   land   and    sea,    to   no   great    purpose,    as   it 


54  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

seemed  ;  for  although  he  had  the  usual  complement 
of  eyes  and  ears,  the  avenues  between  these  organs 
and  his  brain  appeared  remarkably  narrow  and  un- 
trodden. His  energy  was  much  more  conspicuous 
than  his  wisdom  ;  but  his  predominant  character- 
istic was  a  magnanimous  ambition  to  exercise  on  all 
occasions  an  awful  rule  and  supremacy,  and  this 
propensity  equally  displayed  itself,  as  the  reader 
will  have  observed,  whether  the  matter  in  question 
was  the  baking  of  a  hoe-cake  or  a  point  of  interna- 
'  tional  law.  When  such  diverse  elements  as  he  and 
the  easy-tempered  Captain  came  in  contact,  no 
wonder  some  commotion  ensued  ;  R.  rode  rough- 
shod, from  morning  till  night,  over  his  militar}'  ally. 

At  noon  the  sky  was  clear,  and  we  set  out,  trail- 
ing through  mud  and  slime  six  inches  deep.  That 
night  we  were  spared  the  customary  infliction  of  the 
shower-bath. 

On  the  next  afternoon  we  were  moving  slowly 
along,  not  far  from  a  patch  of  woods  which  lay  on 
the  right.     Jack  C.  rode  a  little  in  advance, 

"  The  livelong  day  he  had  not  spoke," 

when  suddenly  he  faced  about,  pointed  to  the  woods, 
and  roared  out  to  his  brother  : 

"Oh,  Bill  !  here's  a  cow  !" 

The  Captain  instantly  galloped  forward,  and  he 
and  Jack  made  a  vain  attempt  to  capture  the  prize  ; 
but  the  cow,  with  a  well-grounded  distrust  of  their 
intentions,  took  refuge  among  the  trees.  R.  joined 
them,  and  they  soon  drove  her  out.  We  watched 
their  evolutions  as  they  galloped  around  her,  trying 
in  vain  to  noose  her  with  their  trail-ropes,  which 
they  had  converted  into  lariettcs  for  the  occasion. 
At  length  they  re'sorted  to  milder  measures,  and  the 
cow  was  driven  along  with  the  party.  Soon  after 
the  usual  thunder-storm  came  up,  the  wind  blowing 


THE  ''BIG  blue:'  55 

with  such  fury  that  the  streams  of  rain  flew  almost 
horizontally  along  the  prairie,  roaring  like  a  cat- 
aract. The  horses  turned  tail  to  the  storm,  and 
stood  hanging  their  heads,  bearing  the  infliction 
with  an  air  of  meekness  and  resignation  ;  while  we 
drew  our  heads  between  our  shoulders,  and  crouched 
forward,  so  as  to  make  our  backs  serve  as  a  pent- 
house for  the  rest  of  our  persons.  Meanwhile,  the 
cow,  taking  advantage  of  the  tumult,  ran  off,  to  the 
great  discomfiture  of  the  Captain,  who  seemed  to 
consider  her  as  his  own  especial  prize,  since  she  had 
been  discovered  by  Jack.  In  defiance  of  the  storm, 
he  pulled  his  cap  tight  over  his  brows,  jerked  a  huge 
buffalo-pistol  from  his  holster,  and  set  out  at  full 
speed  after  her.  This  was  the  last  we  saw  of  them 
for  some  time,  the  mist  and  rain  making  an  impene- 
trable veil  ;  but  at  length  we  heard  the  Captain's 
shout,  and  saw  him  looming  through  the  tempest, 
the  picture  of  a  Hibernian  cavalier,  with  his  cocked 
pistol  held  aloft  for  safety's  sake,  and  a  countenance 
of  anxiety  and  excitement.  The  cow  trotted  before 
him,  but  exhibited  evident  signs  of  an  intention  to 
run  off  again,  and  the  Captain  was  roaring  to  us  to 
head  her.  But  the  rain  had  got  in  behind  our  coat 
collars,  and  was  travelling  over  our  necks  in  numer- 
ous little  streamlets,  and  being  afraid  to  move  our 
heads,  for  fear  of  admitting  more,  we  sat  stiff  and 
immovable,  looking  at  the  Captain  askance,  and 
laughing  at  his  frantic  movements.  At  last  the  cow 
made  a  sudden  plunge  and  ran  off ;  the  Captain 
grasped  his  pistol  firmly,  spurred  his  horse,  and  gal- 
loped after,  with  evident  designs  of  mischief.  In  a 
moment  we  heard  the  faint  report,  deadened  by  the 
rain,  and  then  the  conqueror  and  his  victim  reap- 
peared, the  latter  shot  through  the  body,  and  quite 
helpless.  Not  long  after  the  storm  moderated  and 
we   advanced   again.     The    cow  walked   painfully 


56  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

along  under  the  charge  of  Jack,  to  whom  the  Cap- 
tain had  committed  her,  while  he  himself  rode  for- 
ward in  his  old  capacit\-  of  vidette.  We  were  ap- 
proaching a  long  line  of  trees  that  followed  a  stream 
stretching  across  our  path,  far  in  front,  when  we 
beheld  the  vidette  galloping  toward  us,  apparently 
much  excited,  but  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face. 

"  Let  that  cow  drop  behind  !"  he  shouted  to  us  ; 
"heres  her  owners  1" 

And  in  fact,  as  we  approached  the  line  of  trees, 
a  large  white  object,  like  a  tent,  was  visible  behind 
them.  On  approaching,  however,  we  found,  instead 
of  the  expected  Mormon  camp,  nothing  but  the 
lonely  prairie,  and  a  large  white  rock  standing  by 
the  path.  The  cow,  therefore,  resumed  her  place 
in  our  procession.  She  walked  on  until  we  en- 
camped, when  R.,  firmly  approaching  with  his 
enormous  EngUsh  double-barrelled  rifle,  calmly  and 
deliberately  took  aim  at  her  heart,  and  discharged 
into  it  first  one  bullet  and  then  the  other.  She  was 
then  butchered  on  the  most  approved  principles  of 
woodcraft,  and  furnished  a  very  welcome  item  to 
our  somewhat  limited  bill  of  fare. 

In  a  day  or  two  more  we  reached  the  river  called 
the  '..'  Big  Blue. ' '  By  titles  equally  elegant  almost 
all  the  streams  of  this  region  are  designated.  We 
had  struggled  through  ditches  and  little  brooks  all 
that  morning  ;  but  on  traversing  the  dense  woods 
that  lined  the  banks  of  the  Blue  we  found  that  more 
formidable  difficulties  awaited  us,  for  the  stream, 
swollen  by  the  rains,  was  wide,  deep,  and  rapid. 

No  sooner  were  we  on  the  spot  than  R.  had  flung 
off  his  clothes,  and  was  sn-imming  across,  or  splash- 
ing through  the  shallows,  with  the  end  of  a  rope 
bet^veen  his  teeth.  We  all  looked  on  in  admira- 
tion, wondering  what  might  be  the  design  of  this 
energetic  preparation  ;  but  soon  we  hepd  him  shout- 


THE    ''BIG   blue:'  5/ 

ing  :  "Give  that  rope  a  turn  round  that  stump! 
You,  Sorel  ;  do  you  hear?  Look  sharp,  now,  Bois- 
verd  !  Come  over  to  this  side,  some  of  you,  and 
help  me  !"  The  men  to  whom  these  orders  were 
directed  paid  not  the  least  attention  to  them,  though 
they  were  poured  out  without  pause  or  intermission. 
Henry  Chatillon  directed  the  work,  and  it  proceeded 
quietly  and  rapidly.  R.'s  sharp  brattling  voice 
might  have  been  heard  incessantly  ;  and  he  was 
leaping  about  with  the  utmost  activity,  multiplying 
himself,  after  the  manner  of  great  commanders,  as 
if  his  universal  presence  and  supervision  were  of 
the  last  necessity.  His  commands  were  rather 
amusingly  inconsistent  ;  for  when  he  saw  that  the 
men  would  not  do  as  he  told  them,  he  wisely  accom- 
modated himself  to  circumstances,  and  with  the  ut- 
most vehemence  ordered  them  to  do  precisely  that 
which  they  were  at  the  time  engaged  upon,  no 
doubt  recollecting  the  story  of  Mahomet  and  the 
refractory  mountain.  Shaw  smiled  Significantly  ; 
R.  observed  it,  and  approaching  with  a  countenance 
of  lofty  indignation,  began  to  vapor  a  little,  but  was 
instantly  reduced  to  silence. 

The  raft  was  at  length  complete.  We  piled  our 
goods  upon  it,  with  the  exception  of  our  guns,  which 
each  man  chose  to  retain  in  his  own  keeping. 
Sorel,  Boisverd,  Wright,  and  Delorier  took  their 
stations  at  the  four  corners,  to  hold  it  together,  and 
swim  across  with  it ;  and  in  a  moment  more  all 
our  earthly  possessions  were  floating  on  the  turbid 
w^aters  of  the  Big  Blue.  We  sat  on  the  bank, 
anxiously  watching  the  result,  until  we  saw  the  raft 
safely  landed  in  a  little  cov^  far  down  on  the  oppo- 
site bank.  The  empty  wagons  were  easily  passed 
across  ;  and  then,  each  man  mounting  a  horse,  we 
rode  through  the  stream,  the  stray  animals  following 
of  their  own  accord. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT. 

"  Seest  thou  yon  dreary  plain,  forlorn  and  wild, 
The  seat  of  desolation?"— PARADISE  LOST. 

"  Here  have  we  war  for  war,  and  blood  for  blood." 

King  John. 

We  were  now  arrived  at  the  close  of  our  solitary 
journeyings  along  the  St.  Joseph's  trail.  On  the 
evening  of  the  twenty-third  of  May  we  encamped 
near  its  junction  with  the  old  legitimate  trail  of  the 
Oregon  emigrants.  We  had  ridden  long  that  after- 
noon, trying  in  vain  to  find  wood  and  water,  until 
at  length  we  saw  the  sunset  sky  reflected  from  a 
pool  encircled  by  bushes  and  a  rock  or  two.  The 
water  lay  in  the  bottom  of  a  hollow,  the  smooth 
prairie  gracefully  rising  in  ocean-like  swells  on  every 
side.  We  pitched  our  tents  by  it  •  not,  however, 
before  the  keen  eye  of  Henry  Chatillon  had  dis- 
cerned some  unusual  object  upon  the  faintly  defined 
outline  of  the  distant  swell.  But  in  the  moist,  hazy 
atmosphere  of  the  evening  nothing  could  be  clearly 
distinguished.  As  we  lay  around  the  fire  after  supper 
a  low  and  distant  sound,  strange  enough  amid  the 
loneliness  of  the  prairie,  reached  our  ears — peals 
of  laughter  and  the  faint  voices  of  men  and  women. 
For  eight  days  we  had  not  encountered  a  human 
being,  and  this  singular  warning  of  their  vicinity 
had  an  effect  extremely  wild  and  impressive. 

About  dark  a  sallow-faced  fellow  descended  the 

hill  on  horseback,  and  splashing  through  the  pool, 

rode  up  to  the  tents.      He  was  enveloped  in  a  huge 

cloak,  and  his  broad  felt  hat  was  weeping  about  his 

68 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      59 

ears  with  the  drizzling  moisture  of  the  evening. 
Another  followed,  a  stout,  square-built,  intelligent- 
looking  man,  who  announced  himself  as  leader 
of  an  emigrant  party,  encamped  a  mile  in  ad- 
vance of  us.  About  twenty  wagons,  he  said,  were 
with  him  ;  the  rest  of  his  party  were  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Big  Blue,  waiting  for  a  woman  who  was 
in  the  pains  of  child-birth,  and  quarrelling  mean- 
while among  themselves. 

These  were  the  first  emigrants  that  we  had  over- 
taken, although  we  had  found  abundant  and  melan- 
choly traces  of  their  progress  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  the  journey.  Sometimes  we  passed  the 
grave  of  one  who  had  sickened  and  died  on  the 
way.  The  earth  was  usually  torn  up  and  covered 
thickly  with  wolf-tracks.  Some  had  escaped  this 
violation.  One  morning  a  piece  of  plank,  standing 
upright  on  the  summit  of  a  grassy  hill,  attracted  our 
notice,  and  riding  up  to  it,  we  found  the  following 
words  very  roughly  traced  upon  it,  apparently  by  a 
red-hot  piece  of  iron  ;  • 

MARY   ELLIS, 

DIED    MAY   7th,    1845. 
AGED  TWO  MONTHS. 

Such  tokens  were  of  common  occurrence.  Noth- 
ing could  speak  more  for  the  hardihood,  or  rather 
infatuation,  of  the  adventurers,  or  the  sufferings  that 
await  them  upon  the  journey. 

We  were  late  in  breaking  up  our  camp  on  the 
following  morning,  and  scarcely  had  we  ridden  a 
mile  when  we  saw,  far  in  advance  of  us,  drawn 
against  the  horizon,  a  line  of  objects  stretching  at 
regular  intervals  along  the  level  edge  of  the  prairie. 
An  intervening  swell    soon    hid    them  from  sight, 


6o  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

until,  ascending  it  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  we 
saw  close  before  us  the  emigrant  caravan,  with  its 
heavy  white  wagons  creeping  on  in  their  slow  pro- 
cession, and  a  large  drove  of  cattle  following  be- 
hind. Half  a  dozen  yellow-visaged  Missourians, 
mounted  on  horseback,  were  cursing  and  shouting 
among  them  ;  their  lank  angular  proportions,  envel- 
oped in  brown  homespun,  evidently  cut  and  ad- 
justed by  the  hands  of  a  domestic  female  tailor. 
As  we  approached,  they  greeted  us  with  the  pol- 
ished salutation  :  "  How  are  ye,  boys  ?  Are  ye  for 
Oregon  or  California  ?' ' 

As  we  pushed  rapidly  past  the  wagons,  children' s 
faces  were  thrust  out  from  the  white  coverings  to 
look  at  us  ;  while  the  care-worn,  thin-featured  ma- 
tron, or  the  buxom  girl,  seated  in  front,  suspended 
the  knitting  on  which  most  of  them  were  engaged  to 
stare  at  us  with  wondering  curiosity.  By  the  side 
of  each  wagon  stalked  the  proprietor,  urging  on  his 
patient  oxen,  who  shouldered  heavily  along,  inch 
by  inch,  on  their  interminable  journey.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that  fear  and  dissension  prevailed  among 
them  ;  some  of  the  men — but  these,  with  one  excep- 
tion, were  bachelors — looked  wistfully  upon  us  as  we 
rode  lightly  and  swiftly  past,  and  then  impatiently 
at  their  own  lumbering  wagons  and  heavy-gaited 
oxen.  Others  were  unwilling  to  advance  at  all  until 
the  party  they  had  left  behind  should  have  rejoined 
them.  Many  were  murmuring  against  the  leader 
they  had  chosen,  and  wished  to  depose  him  ;  and 
this  discontent  was  fomented  by  some  ambitious 
spirits,  who  had  hopes  of  succeeding  in  his  place. 
The  women  were  divided  between  regrets  for  the 
homes  they  had  left  and  apprehension  of  the  deserts 
and  the  savages  before  them. 

We  soon  left  them  far  behind,  and  fondly  hoped 
that  we  had  taken  a  final  leave  ;  but  unluckily  our 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      6 1 

companions'  wagon  stuck  so  long  in  a  deep  muddy 
ditch,  that  before  it  was  extricated  the  van  of  the 
emigrant  caravan  appeared  again,  descending  a 
ridge  close  at  hand.  Wagon  after  wagon  plunged 
through  the  mud  ;  and  as  it  was  nearly  noon,  and 
the  place  promised  shade  and  water,  we  saw  with 
much  gratification  that  they  were  resolved  to 
encamp.  Soon  the  wagons  were  wheeled  into  a 
circle  ;  the  cattle  were  grazing  over  the  meadow, 
and  the  men,  with  sour,  sullen  faces,  were  looking 
about  for  wood  and  water.  They  seemed  to  meet 
with  but  indifferent  success.  As  we  left  the  ground 
I  saw  a  tall  slouching  fellow,  with  the  nasal  accent 
of  ' '  down  east, ' '  contemplating  the  contents  of  his 
tin  cup,  which  he  had  just  filled  with  water. 

"Look  here,  you,"  said  he  ;  "it's  chock-full  of 
animals  !" 

The  cup,  as  he  held  it  out,  exhibited  in  fact  an 
extraordinary  variety  and  profusion  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life. 

Riding  up  the  little  hill,  and  looking  back  on  the 
meadow,  we  could  easily  see  that  all  was  not  right 
in  the  camp  of  the  emigrants.  The  men  were 
crowded  together,  and  an  angry  discussion  seemed 
to  be  going  forward.  R.  was  missing  from  his 
wonted  place  in  the  line,  and  the  Captain  told  us 
that  he  had  remained  behind  to  get  his  horse  shod 
by  a  blacksmith  who  was  attached  to  the  emigrant 
party.  Something  whispered  in  our  ears  that  mis- 
chief was  on  foot  ;  we  kept  on,  however,  and  coming 
soon  to  a  stream  of  tolerable  water,  we  stopped  to 
rest  and  dine.  Still  the  absentee  lingered  behind. 
At  last,  at  the  distance  of  a  mile,  he  and  his  horse 
suddenly  appeared,  sharply  defined  against  the  sky 
on  the  summit  of  a  hill  ;  and  close  behind  a  huge 
white  object  rose  slowly  into  view. 

' '  What  is  that  blockhead  bringing  with  him  now  ?' ' 


e 


62  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

A  moment  dispelled  the  mysten*.  Slowly  and 
solemnly,  one  behind  the  other,  four  long  trains  of 
oxen  and  four  emigrant  w-agons  rolled  over  the  crest 
of  the  decli%it\-  and  gravely  descended,  while  R. 
rode  in  state  in  the  van.  It  seems  that  during  the 
process  of  shoeing  the  horse,  the  smothered  dissen- 
sions among  the  emigrants  suddenly  broke  into  open 
rupture.  Some  insisted  on  pushing  forward,  some 
on  remaining  where  they  were,  and  some  on  grong 
back.  Kearsley,  their  captain,  threw  up  his  com- 
mand in  disgust.  "And  now,  boys,"  said  he,  "if 
any  of  you  are  for  going  ahead,  just  you  come  along 
with  me." 

Four  wagons,  -with  ten  men,  one  woman,  and  one 
small  child,  made  up  the  force  of  the  "go-ahead" 
faction,  and  R.,  with  his  usual  proclivity  toward 
mischief,  in\-ited  them  to  join  our  part\-.  Fear  of 
the  Indians — ^for  I  can  conceive  of  no  other  modve 
— ^must  have  induced  him  to  court  so  burdensome 
an  alliance.  As  may  well  be  conceived,  tliese 
repeated  instances  of  high-handed  dealing  suffi- 
ciently exasperated  us.  In  this  case,  indeed,  the 
men  who  joined  us  were  all  that  could  be  desired; 
rude,  indeed,  in  manners,  but  frank,  manly,  and 
intelligent.  To  tell  them  we  could  not  travel  with 
them  was  of  course  out  of  the  question.  I  merely 
reminded  Kearsley  that  if  his  oxen  could  not  ke^ 
up  with  our  mules  he  must  expect  to  be  left  behind. 
as  we  could  not  consent  to  be  farther  delayed  on  the 
journey  •,  but  he  immediately  replied  that  his  oxen 
"should  keep  up  ;  and  if  they  couldn't,  why  he 
allowed  he'd  find  out  how  to  make  'em  ]"  Ha^-ing 
also  a^•ailed  myself  of  what  satisfaction  could  be  tie- 
rived  from  gJAT-ng  R.  to  understand  mj''  opinion  tA 
his  conduct,  I  returned  to  our  own  side  of  the  camp. 

On  the  next  day,  as  it  chanced,  our  English  com- 
panions broke  the  axle-tree  of  their  wagon,  and 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      63 

down  came  the  whole  cumbrous  machine  lumbering 
into  the  bed  of  a  brook  !  Here  was  a  day's  work 
cut  out  for  us.  Meanwhile,  our  emigrant  associates 
kept  on  their  way,  and  so  vigorously  did  they  urge 
forward  their  powerful  oxen,  that,  with  the  broken 
axle-tree  and  other  calamities,  it  was  full  a  week 
before  we  overtook  them  ;  when  at  length  we  dis- 
covered them,  one  afternoon,  crawling  quietly  along 
the  sandy  brink  of  the  Platte.  But  meanwhile 
various  incidents  occurred  to  ourselves. 

It  was  probable  that  at  this  stage  of  our  journey 
the  Pawnees  would  attempt  to  rob  us.  We  began, 
therefore,  to  stand  guard  in  turn,  dividing  the  night 
into  three  watches,  and  appointing  two  men  for 
each.  Delorier  and  I  held  guard  together.  We 
did  not  march  with  military  precision  to  and  fro 
before  the  tents  .  our  discipline  was  by  no  means  so 
stringent  and  rigid.  We  wrapped  ourselves  in  our 
blankets  and  sat  down  by  the  fire  ;  and  Delorier, 
combining  his  culinary  functions  with  his  duties  as 
sentinel,  employed  himself  in  boiling  the  head  of 
an  antelope  for  our  morning's  repast.  Yet  we  were 
models  of  vigilance  in  comparison  with  some  of  the 
party  ;  for  the  ordinary  practice  of  the  guard  was  to 
establish  himself  in  the  most  comfortable  posture  he 
could  ;  lay  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  and  enveloping  his 
nose  in  his  blanket,  meditate  on  his  mistress  or  what- 
ever subject  best  pleased  him.  This  is  all  well  enough 
when  among  Indians  who  do  not  habitually  proceed 
farther  in  their  hostility  than  robbing  travellers  of 
their  horses  and  mules,  though,  indeed,  a  Pawnee's 
forbearance  is  not  always  to  be  trusted  ;  but  in 
certain  regions  farther  to  the  west  the  guard  must 
beware  how  he  exposes  his  person  to  the  light  of 
the  fire,  lest  perchance  some  keen-eyed  skulking 
marksman  should  let  fly  a  bullet  or  an  arrow  from 
amid  the  darkness. 


64  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Among  various  tales  that  circulated  around  our 
camp-hre  was  a  rather  curious  one,  told  by  Boisverd, 
and  not  inappropriate  here.  Boisverd  was  trapping 
with  several  companions  on  the  skirts  of  the  Black- 
foot  countr}-.  The  man  on  guard,  well-knowing 
that  it  behooved  him  to  put  forth  his  utmost  pre- 
caution, kept  aloof  from  the  fire-light,  and  sat 
•watching  intently  on  all  sides.  At  length  he  was 
aware  of  a  dark,  crouching  figure,  stealing  noise- 
lessly into  the  circle  of  the  light.  He  hastily  cocked 
his  rifle,  but  the  sharp  click  of  the  lock  caught  the 
ear  of  Blackfoot,  whose  senses  were  all  on  the  alert. 
Raising  his  arrow,  already  fitted  to  the  string,  he 
shot  it  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  So  sure  was 
his  aim,  that  he  drove  it  through  the  throat  of  the 
unfortunate  guard,  and  then,  with  a  loud  yell, 
bounded  from  the  camp. 

As  I  looked  at  the  partner  of  my  watch,  puffing 
and  blowing  over  his  fire,  it  occurred  to  me  that  he 
might  not  prove  the  most  efficient  auxiliary  in  time 
of  trouble. 

"  Delorier,"  said  I,  "would  you  run  away  if  the 
Pawnees  should  fire  at  us  ?' ' 

"Ah  I  oui,  oui,  Monsieur  I"  he  replied  ver\"  de- 
cisively. 

I  did  not  doubt  the  fact,  but  was  a  little  surprised 
at  the  frankness  of  the  confession. 

At  this  instant  a  most  whimsical  variet\'  of  voices 
— barks,  howls,  yelps,  and  whines — all  mingled  as 
it  were  together,  sounded  from  the  prairie,  not  far 
off.  as  if  a  whole  conclave  of  wolves  of  every  age 
and  sex  were  assembled  there.  Delorier  looked  up 
from  his  work  with  a  laugh,  and  began  to  imitate 
this  curious  medley  of  sounds  with  a  most  ludicrous 
accuracy.  At  this  they  were  repeated  with  redoubled 
emphasis,  the  musician  being  apparently  indignant 
at  the  successful  efiorts  of  a  rival.     They  all  pro- 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      65 

ceeded  from  the  throat  of  one  little  wolf,  not  larger 
than  a  spaniel,  seated  by  himself  at  some  distance. 
He  was  of  the  species  called  the  prairie-wolf  ;  a  grim- 
visaged,  but  harmless  little  brute,  whose  worst  pro- 
pensity is  creeping  among  horses  and  gnawing  the 
ropes  of  raw-hide  by  which  they  are  picketed  around 
the  camp.  But  other  beasts  roam  the  prairies  far 
more  formidable  in  aspect  and  in  character.  These 
are  the  large  white  and  gray  wolves,  whose  deep 
howl  we  heard  at  inter\als  from  far  and  near. 

At  last  I  fell  into  a  doze,  and  awaking  from  it, 
found  Delorier  fast  asleep.  Scandalized  by  this 
breach  of  discipline,  I  was  about  to  stimulate  his 
vigilance  by  stirring  him  with  the  stock  of  my  rifle  ; 
but  compassion  prevailing,  I  determined  to  let  him 
sleep  awhile,  and  then  arouse  him  and  administer  a 
suitable  reproof  for  such  a  forgetfulness  of  duty. 
Now  and  then  I  walked  the  rounds  among  the  silent 
horses  to  see  that  all  was  right.  The  night  was 
chill,  damp,  and  dark,  the  dank  grass  bending 
under  the  icy  dew-drops.  At  the  distance  of  a  rod 
or  two  the  tents  were  invisible,  and  nothing  could  be 
seen  but  the  obscure  figures  of  the  horses,  deeply 
breathing,  and  restlessly  starting  as  they  slept,  or 
still  slowly  champing  the  grass.  Far  off,  beyond  the 
black  outline  of  the  prairie,  there  was  a  ruddy  light, 
gradually  increasing  like  the  glow  of  a  conflagration  ; 
until  at  length  the  broad  disk  of  the  moon,  blood- 
red,  and  vastly  magnified  by  the  vapors,  rose  slowly 
upon  the  darkness,  flecked  by  one  or  two  little 
clouds,  and  as  the  light  poured  over  the  gloomy 
plain,  a  fierce  and  stern  howl,  close  at  hand,  seemed 
to  greet  it  as  an  unwelcome  intruder.  There  was 
something  impressive  and  awful  in  the  place  and 
the  hour  ;  for  I  and  the  beasts  were  all  that  had 
consciousness  for  many  a  league  around. 

Some 'days   elapsed,   and    brought   us  near   the 

5 


66  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

Platte.  Two  men  on  horseback  approached  us  one 
morning,  and  we  watched  them  with  the  cariosity 
and  Interest  that,  upon  the  soUtude  of  the  plains. 
such  an  encounter  alwaj's  excites.  They  were  evi- 
dendy  whites,  from  their  mode  <rf  riding,  diough, 
contian,-  to  the  usage  of  that  region,  neither  of  them 
carried  a  rifle. 

"Fools!"  remarked  Henr\"  Chatillon,  "to  ride 
that  way  on  the  prairie ;  Pawnee  find  them — then 
they  catch  iL" 

Pawnee  had  found  &em,  and  they  had  come 
very  near  "catching  it"  ;  indeed,  nothing  saved 
them  from  trouble  but  the  approach  of  our  party. 
Shaw  and  1  knew  one  of  them ;  a  man  named 
Turner,  whom  we  had  seen  at  Westport.  He  and 
his  companion  belonged  to  an  emigrant  party  en- 
camped a  few  miles  in  advance,  and  had  r^nmed 
to  look  for  some  stray  oxen,  lea\~ing  their  rifles, 
with  chaiacteristic  ra-shness  or  ignorance,  behind 
them.  Their  neglect  had  neariy  cost  them  dear ; 
for  just  before  we  came  up  half  a  dozen  Indians 
approached,  and  seeing  them  apparendy  defence- 
less, one  of  the  rascals  seized  the  bridle  of  Turner's 
fine  horse,  and  ordered  him  to  dismoonL  Turner 
was  wholly  unarmed  ;  but  die  other  jeiked  a  litde 
revolving  pistol  out  of  his  pocket,  at  which  the 
Pawnee  recoiled  ;  and  just  then  some  of  our  men 
appearing  in  the  distance,  the  whole  part)'  whipped 
their  rugged  little  horses,  and  made  off.  In  no 
way  daunted.  Turner  foolishly  persisting  in  going 
forward. 

Long  after  leading  him,  and  late  that  afternoon, 
in  the  midst  of  a  gloomy  and  barren  prairie,  we 
came  suddenly  upon  the  great  Pawnee  trail,  leading 
from  their  villages  <mi  the  Platte  to  their  war  and 
hunting  grounds  to  the  southward.  Here  every 
summer  pass  the  modey  concourse  ;  thousands  of 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      6/ 

savages,  men,  women,  and  children,  horses  and 
mules,  laden  with  their  weapons  and  implements, 
and  an  innumerable  multitude  of  unruly  wolfish 
dogs,  who  have  not  acquired  the  civilized  accom- 
plishment of  barking,  but  howl  like  their  wild 
cousins  of  the  prairie. 

The  permanent  winter  villages  of  the  P'awnees 
stand  on  the  lower  Platte,  but  throughout  the  sum- 
mer the  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants  are  wander- 
ing over  the  plains,  a  treacherous,  cowardly  ban- 
ditti who,  by  a  thousand  acts  of  pillage  and  murder, 
have  deserved  summary  chastisement  at  the  hands 
of  government.  Last  year  a  Dahcotah  warrior  per- 
formed a  signal  exploit  at  one  of  these  villages.  He 
approached  it  alone,  in  the  middle  of  a  dark  night, 
and  clambering  up  the  outside  of  one  of  the  lodges, 
which  are  in  the  form  of  a  half-sphere,  he  looked 
in  at  the  round  hole  made  at  the  top  for  the  escape 
of  smoke.  The  dusky  light  from  the  smouldering 
embers  showed  him  the  forms  of  the  sleeping  in- 
mates ;  and  dropping  lightly  through  the  opening, 
he  unsheathed  his  knife,  and  stirring  the  fire,  coolly 
selected  his  victims.  One  by  one,  "he  stabbed  and 
scalped  them  ;  when  a  child  suddenly  awoke  and 
screamed.  He  rushed  from  the  lodge,  yelled  a 
Sioux  war-cry,  shouted  his  name  in  triumph  and 
defiance,  and  in  a  moment  had  darted  out  upon  the 
dark  prairie,  leaving  the  whole  village  behind  him 
in  a  tumult,  with  the  howling  and  baying  of  dogs, 
the  screams  of  women,  and  the  yells  of  the  enraged 
warriors. 

Our  friend  Kearsley,  as  we  learned  on  rejoining 
him,  signalized  himself  by  a  less  bloody  achieve- 
ment. He  and  his  men  were  good  woodsmen,  and 
well  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  ritie  ;  but  found  them- 
selves wholly  out  of  their  element  on  the  prairie. 
None  of  them  had  ever  seen  a  buffalo  ;  and  they 


68  THE    ORE G OX  TRAIL. 

had  very  vague  conceptions  of  his  nature  and  ap- 
pearance. On  the  day  after  they  reached  the 
Platte,  looking  toward  a  distant  swell,  they  beheld  a 
multitude  of  littie  black  specks  in  motion  upon  its 
surface. 

"Take  your  rifles,  boys,"  said  Kearsley,  "and 
we'll  have  fresh  meat  for  supper."  This  induce- 
ment was  quite  sufficient.  The  ten  men  left  their 
wagons,  and  set  out  in  hot  haste,  some  on  horse- 
back and  some  on  foot,  in  pursuit  of  the  sup- 
posed buitalo.  Meanwhile  a  high  grassy  ridge  shut 
the  game  from  view  ;  but  mounting  it  after  half  an 
hour's  running  and  riding,  they  found  themselves 
suddenly  confronted  by  about  thirty-  mounted  Paw- 
nees I  The  amazement  and  consternation  were 
mutual.  Having  nothing  but  their  bows  and  ar- 
rows, the  Indians  thought  their  hour  was  come,  and 
the  fate  that  they  were  no  doubt  conscious  of  richly 
deserving  about  to  overtake  them.  So  they  began, 
one  and  all,  to  shout  forth  the  most  cordial  saluta- 
tions of  friendship,  running  up  with  extreme  ear- 
nestness to  shake  hands  \\-\xh  the  Missourians,  who 
were  as  much  rejoiced  as  they  were  to  escape  the 
expected  conflict. 

A  low  undulating  line  of  sand-hills  bounded  the 
horizon  before  us.  That  day  we  rode  ten  consecu- 
tive hours,  and  it  was  dusk  before  we  entered  the 
hollows  and  gorges  of  these  gloomy  little  hills.  At 
length  we  gained  the  summit,  and  the  long-expected 
valley  of  the  Platte  lay  before  us.  We  all  drew 
rein,  and  gathering  in  a  knot  on  th§  crest  of  the 
hill,  sat  joyfully  looking  down  upon  the  prospect. 
It  was  right  welcome  ;  strange,  too,  and  striking  to 
the  imagination,  and  yet  it  had  not  one  picturesque 
or  beautiful  feature  ;  nor  had  it  any  of  the  feat- 
ures of  grandeur,  other  than  its  vast  extent,  its 
sohtude,  and  its  wildness.     For  league  after  league 


THE   PLATTE  AND    THE  DESERT.      69 

a  plain  as  level  as  a  frozen  lake  was  outspread 
beneath  us  ;  here  and  there  the  Platte,  divided 
into  a  dozen  thread-like  sluices,  was  traversing  it, 
and  an  occasional  clump  of  wood,  rising  in  the 
midst  like  a  shadowy  island,  relieved  the  monotony 
of  the  waste.  No  hving  thing  was  moving  through- 
out the  vast  landscape,  except  the  lizards  that  darted 
over  the  sand  and  through  the  rank  grass  and  prickly- 
pear,  just  at  our  feet.  And  yet  stern  and  wild  asso- 
ciations gave  a  singular  interest  to  the  view  ;  for 
here  each  man  lives  by  the  strength  of  his  arm  and 
the  valor  of  his  heart.  Here  society  is  reduced  to 
its  original  elements,  the  whole  fabric  of  art  and 
conventionality  is  struck  rudely  to  pieces,  and  men 
find  themselves  suddenly  brought  back  to  the  wants 
and  resources  of  their  original  natures. 

We  had  passed  the  more  toilsome  and  monoto- 
nous part  of  the  journey  ;  but  four  hundred  miles 
still  inter\ened  between  us  and  Fort  Laramie  ;  and 
to  reach  that  point  cost  us  the  travel  of  three  addi- 
tional weeks.  During  the  whole  of  this  time  we 
were  passing  up  the  centre  of  a  long  narrow  sandy 
plain,  reaching,  like  an  outstretched  belt,  nearly  to 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  Two  lines  of  sand-hills, 
broken  often  into  the  wildest  and  most  fantastic 
forms,  flanked  the  valley  at  the  distance  of  a  mile 
or  two  on  the  right  and  left  ;  while  beyond  them  lay 
a  barren,  trackless  waste — "The  Great  American 
Desert" — extending  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  the 
Arkansas  on  the  one  side,  and  the  Missouri  on  the 
other.  IJefore  us  and  behind'  us  the  level  monotony 
of  the  plain  was  unbroken  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  Sometimes  it  glared  in  the  sun,  an  expanse 
of  hot,  bare  sand  ;  sometimes  it  was  veiled  by  long 
coarse  grass.  Huge  skulls  and  whitening  bones  of 
buffalo  were  scattered  everywhere  ;  the  ground  was 
tracked  by  myriads  of  them,  and  often  covered  with 


70  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

the  circiilar  indentations  where  the  bulls  had  wal- 
lowed in  the  hot  weather.  From  every  gorge  and 
ra\~ine  opening  from  the  hills  descended  deep, 
weU-wom  paths,  where  the  bufialo  issue  twice  a  day 
in  r^ular  procession  down  to  drink  in  the  Platte. 
The  river  itself  runs  through  the  midst,  a  thin  sheet 
of  rapid,  turbid  water,  half  a  imle  wide,  and  scarce 
two  feet  deep.  Its  low  banks,  for  the  most  part 
without  a  bush  or  a  tree,  are  of  loose  sand,  with 
which  the  stream  is  so  charged  that  it  grates  on  the 
teeth  in  drinking.  The  naked  landsca^>e  is  of  itself 
dreary  and  monotonous  enough  ;  and  yet  the  wild 
beasts  and  wild  men  that  frequent  the  valley  of  the 
Hatte  make  it  a  scene  of  interest  and  excitement  to 
the  traveller.  Of  those  who  have  journeyed  there 
scarce  one,  perhaps,  &ils  to  look  back  with  fond 
regret  to  his  horse  and  his  rifle. 

Early  in  the  morning  after  we  reached  the  Hatte, 
a  long  procession  of  squahd  sa\-ages  approached  our 
camp.  Each  was  on  foot,  leading  his  horse  by  a 
rope  of  bull-hides.  His  attire  consisted  merely  of  a 
scant)"  cincture,  and  an  old  buffido-robe,  tattered 
and  begrimed  by  use,  which  hung  over  his  shoul- 
ders. His  head  was  close -shaven,  except  a  ridge 
of  hair  reaching  over  the  crown  from  the  centre  of 
the  forehead,  very  much  like  the  long  brisdes  on 
the  back  of  a  hyena,  and  he  carried  his  bow  and 
arrows  in  his  hand,  while  his  meagre  Utde  horse  was 
laden  with  dried  bul&lo-meat,  the  produce  of  his 
hunting.  Such  were  the  first  specimens  that  we 
met — and  very  indifferent  ones  they  were — of  the 
genuine  sa\-ages  of  the  prairie. 

They  were  the  Pawnees  whom  Kearsley  had  en- 
countered the  day  before,  and  beloi^ed  to  a  large 
huntii^  party,  known  to  be  ranging  the  prairie  in 
the  \icinit\-.  They  strode  rapidly  past,  within  a 
furlong  of  our  tents,  not  pausing  or  looking  toward 


THE   PLATTE  AXD    THE   DESERT.      7 1 

us,  after  the  manner  of  Indians  when  meditating 
mischief  or  conscious  of  ill  desert.  I  went  out  and 
met  them  ;  and  had  an  amicable  conference  with  the 
chief,  presenting  him  with  half  a  pound  of  tobacco, 
at  which  unmerited  bounty  he  expressed  much  grati- 
fication. These  fellows,  or  some  of  their  com- 
panions, had  committed  a  dastardly  outrage  upon 
an  emigrant  party  in  advance  of  us.  Two  men, 
out  on  horseback  at  a  distance,  were  seized  by  them, 
but  lashing  their  horses,  they  broke  loose  and  fled. 
At  this  the  Pawnees  raised  the  yell  and  shot  at 
them,  transfixing  the  hindermost  through  the  back 
with  several  arrows,  while  his  companion  galloped 
away  and  brought  in  the  news  to  his  party.  The 
panic-stricken  emigrants  remained  for  several  days 
in  camp,  not  daring  even  to  send  out  in  quest  of  the 
dead  body. 

The  reader  will  recollect  Turner,  the  man  whose 
narrow  escape  was  mentioned  not  long  since.  We 
heard  that  the  men,  whom  the  entreaties  of  his  wife 
induced  to  go  in  search  of  him,  found  him  leisurely 
driving  along  his  recovered  oxen,  and  whistling  in 
utter  contempt  of  the  Pawnee  nation.  His  party 
was  encamped  within  two  miles  of  us  ;  but  we  passed 
them  that  morning,  while  the  men  were  driving  in 
the  oxen,  and  the  women  packing  their  domestic 
utensils  and  their  numerous  offspring  in  the  spacious 
patriarchal  wagons.  As  we  looked  back  we  saw 
their  caravan  dragging  its  slow  length  along  the 
plain  ;  wearily  toiling  on  its  way  to  found  new  em- 
pires in  the  West. 

Our  New  England  climate  is  mild  and  equable 
compared  with  that  of  the  Platte.  This  ver)-  morn- 
ing, for  instance,  was  close  and  sultry-,  the  sun  rising 
with  a  faint  oppressive  heat  ;  when  suddenly  dark- 
ness gathered  in  the  west,  and  a  furious  blast  of  sleet 
and  hail  drove  full  in  our  faces,  icy  cold,  and  urged 


72  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

with  such  demoniac  vehemence  that  it  felt  Hke  a 
storm  of  needles.  It  was  curious  to  see  the  horses  ; 
they  faced  about  in  extreme  displeasure,  holding 
their  tails  like  whipped  dogs,  and  shivering  as  the 
angr}'  gusts,  howling  louder  than  a  concert  of  wolves, 
swept  over  us.  Wright's  long  train  of  mules  came 
sweeping  round  before  the  storm,  like  a  flight  of 
brown  snow-birds  driven  by  a  winter  tempest.  Thus 
we  all  remained  stationar}-  for  some  minutes,  crouch- 
ing close  to  our  horses'  necks,  much  too  surly  to 
speak,  though  once  the  Captain  looked  up  from  be- 
tween the  collars  of  his  coat,  his  face  blood-red,  and 
the  muscles  of  his  mouth  contracted  by  the  cold  into 
a  most  ludicrous  grin  of  agony.  He  grumbled 
something  that  sounded  like  a  curse,  directed,  as 
we  believed,  against  the  unhappy  hour  when  he  had 
first  thought  of  leaving  home.  The  thing  was  too 
good  to  last  long  ;  and  the  instant  the  puffs  of  wind 
subsided  we  erected  our  tents,  and  remained  in 
camp  for  the  rest  of  a  gloomy  and  lowering  day. 
The  emigrants  also  encamped  near  at  hand.  We 
being  first  on  the  ground,  had  appropriated  all  the 
wood  within  reach  ;  so  that  our  fire  alone  blazed 
cheerily.  Around  it  soon  gathered  a  group  of 
uncouth  figures,  shivering  in  the  drizzling  rain. 
Conspicuous  among  them  were  two  or  three  of  the 
half-savage  men  who  spend  their  reckless  lives  in 
trapping  among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  in  trading 
for  the  Fur  Company  in  the  Indian  villages.  They 
were  all  of  Canadian  extraction  ;  their  hard,  weather- 
beaten  faces  and  bushy  moustaches  looked  out  from 
beneath  the  hoods  of  their  white  capotes  with  a  bad 
and  brutish  expression,  as  if  their  owner  might  be 
the  willing  agent  of  any  villany.  And  such  in  fact 
is  the  character  of  many  of  these  men. 

On    the    day    following  we    overtook    Kearsley's 
wagons,  and  thenceforward,  for  a  week  or  two,  we 


THE   BUFFALO.  73 

were  fellow-travellers.  One  good  effect,  at  least, 
resulted  from  the  alliance  ;  it  materially  diminished 
the  serious  fatigues  of  standing  guard  ;  for  the  party- 
being  now  more  numerous,  there  were  longer  inter- 
vals between  each  man's  turns  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BUFFALO. 

"  Twice  twenty  leagues 
Beyond  remotest  smoke  of  hunter's  camp, 
Roams  the  majestic  brute,  in  herds  that  shake 
The  earth  with  thundering  steps."— BRY.A.NT. 

Four  days  on  the  Platte,  and  yet  no  buffalo  ! 
Last  year' s  signs  of  them  were  provokingly  .abun- 
dant ;  and  wood  being  extremely  scarce,  we  found 
an  admirable  substitute  in  the  bois  de  vache,  which 
burns  exactly  like  peat,  producing  no  unpleasant 
effects.  The  wagons  one  morning  had  left  the 
camp  ;  Shaw  and  I  were  already  on  horseback,  but 
Henry  Chatillon  still  sat  cross-legged  by  the  dead 
embers  of  the  fire,  playing  pensively  with  the  lock 
of  his  rifle,  while  his  sturdy  Wyandot  pony  stood 
quietly  behind  him,  looking  over  his  head.  At  last 
he  got  up,  patted  the  neck  of  the  pony  (whom,  from 
an  exaggerated  appreciation  of  his  meiits,  he  had 
christened  "Five  Hundred  Dollar"),  and  then 
mounted  with  a  melancholy  air. 

"  What  is  it,  Henry  ?"  - 

"  Ah,  I  feel  lonesome  ;  I  never  been  here  before  ; 
but  I  see  away  yonder  over  the  buttes,  and  down 
there  on  the  prairie,  black — all  black  with  buffalo  I" 

In  the  afternoon  he  and  I  left  the  party  in  search 
of  an  antelope  ;  until  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or 


74  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

two  on  the  right,  the  tall  white  wagons  and  the  lit- 
tle blciCk  specks  of  horsemen  were  just  visible,  so 
slowly  advancing  that  they  seemed  motionless  ;  and 
far  on  the  left  rose  the  broken  line  of  scorched, 
desolate  sand-hills.  The  vast  plain  waved  with  tall 
rank  grass  that  swept  our  horses'  bellies  ;  it  swayed 
to  and  fro  in  billows  with  the  light  breeze,  and  far 
and  near  antelope  and  wolves  were  moving  through 
it,  the  hairy  backs  of  the  latter  alternately  appear- 
ing and  disappearing  as  they  bounded  awkwardly 
along  ;  while  the  antelope,  with  the  simple  curiosity 
peculiar  to  them,  would  often  approach  us  closely, 
their  little  horns  and  white  throats  just  visible  above 
the  grass  tops,  as  they  gazed  eagerly  at  us  with  their 
round  black  eyes. 

I  dismounted  and  amused  myself  with  firing  at 
the  wolves.  Henry  attentively  scrutinized  the  sur- 
rounding landscape  ;  at  length  he  gave  a  shout,  and 
called  on  me  to  mount  again,  pointing  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sand-hills.  A  mile  and  a  half  from  us 
two  minute  black  specks  slowly  traversed  the  face 
of  one  of  the  bare  glaring  declivities,  and  disap- 
peared behind  the  summit.  "Let  us  go!"  cried 
Henry,  belaboring  the  sides  of  "Five  Hundred 
Dollar ' ' ;  and  I  following  in  his  wake,  we  galloped 
rapidly  through  the  rank  grass  toward  the  base  of 
the  hills. 

From  one  of  their  openings  descended  a  deep 
ravine,  widening  as  it  issued  on  the  prairie.  We 
entered  it,  and  galloping  up,  in  a  moment  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  bleak  sand-hills.  Half  of  their 
steep  sides  were  bare  ;  the  rest  were  scantily  clothed 
with  clumps  of  grass  and  various  uncouth  plants, 
conspicuous  among  which  appeared  the  reptile-like 
prickly-pear.  They  were  gashed  with  numberless 
ravines  ;  and  as  the  sky  had  suddenly  darkened, 
and  a  cold  gusty  wind  arisen,   the  strange  shrubs 


THE   BUFFALO.  75 

and  the  dreary  hills  looked  doubly  wild  and  deso- 
late. But  Henry's  face  was  all  eagerness.  He  tore 
ofif  a  little  hair  from  the  piece  of  buffalo-robe  under 
his  saddle,  and  threw  it  up,  to  show  the  course  of 
the  wind.  It  blew  directly  before  us.  The  game 
were  therefore  to  windward,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
make  our  best  speed  to  get  round  them. 

We  scrambled  from  this  ravine,  and  galloping 
away  through  the  hollows,  soon  found  another, 
winding  like  a  snake  among  the  hills,  and  so  deep 
that  it  completely  concealed  us.  We  rode  up  the 
bottom  of  it,  glancing  through  the  shrubber)-  at  its 
edge,  till  Henry  abruptly  jerked  his  rein  and  slid 
out  of  his  saddle.  Full  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant, 
on  the  outline  of  the  farthest  hill,  a  long  procession 
of  buffalo— "-ere  walking,  in  Indian  file,  with  the 
utmost  gravity  and  deliberation  ;  then  more  ap- 
peared, clambering  from  a  hollow  not  far  ofif,  and 
ascending,  one  behind  the  other,  the  grassy  slope 
of  another  hill  ;  then  a  shaggy  head  and  a  pair  of 
short  broken  horns  appeared  issuing  out  of  a  ravine 
close  at  hand,  and  with  a  slow,  stately  step,  one  by 
one,  the  enormous  brutes  came  into  view,  taking 
their  way  across  the  valley,  wholly  unconscious  of 
an  enemy.  In  a  moment  Henry  was  worming  his 
way,  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  through  grass  and 
prickly-pears,  toward  his  unsuspecting  victims. 
He  had  with  him  both  my  rifle  and  his  own.  He 
was  soon  out  of  sight,  and  still  the  buffalo  kept  issu- 
ing into  the  valley.  For  a  long  time  all  was  silent  ; 
I  sat  holding  his  horse  and  wondering  what  he  was 
about,  when  suddenly,  in  rapid  succession,  came 
the  sharp  reports  of  the  two  rifles,  and  the  whole  line 
of  buffalo,  quickening  their  pace  into  a  clumsy  trot, 
gradually  disappeared  over  the  ridge  of  the  hill. 
Henry  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  looking  after  them. 
"You  have  missed  them,"  said  I. 


76  THE    OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

"Yes,"  said  Henn •;  "let  us  go."  He  de- 
scended into  the  ravine,  loaded  the  rifles,  and 
mounted  his  horse. 

We  rode  up  the  hill  after  the  buffalo.  The 
herd  was  out  of  sight  when  we  reached  the  top, 
but  lying  on  the  grass,  not  far  off,  was  one  quite 
lifeless,  and  another  violently  struggling  in  the 
death  agony. 

"You  see  I  miss  him  I  '  remarked  Henry.  He 
had  fired  from  a  distance  of  more  than  a  hundred 
and  fifty  yards,  and  both  balls  had  passed  through 
the  lungs  ;  the  true  mark  in  shooting  buffalo. 

The  darkness  increased,  and  a  dri\ing  storm 
came  on.  Tying  our  horses  to  the  horns  of  the 
victims.  Henry  began  the  bloody  work  of  dissection, 
slashing  away  with  the  science  of  a  connoisseur, 
while  I  vainly  endea\  ored  to  imitate  him.  Old 
Hendrick  recoiled  with  horror  and  indignation  when 
I  endeavored  to  tie  the  meat  to  the  strings  of  raw- 
hide, always  carried  for  this  purpose,  dangling  at 
the  back  of  the  saddle.  After  some  difficulty  we 
overcame  his  scruples  ;  and  heavily  burdened  with 
the  more  eligible  portions  of  the  buffalo,  we  set  out 
on  our  return.  Scarcely  had  we  emerged  from  the 
labyrinth  of  gorges  and  ravines,  and  issued  upon 
the  open  prairie,  when  the  prickling  slfiet  came 
driving,  gust  upon  gust,  directly  in  our  faces.  It 
was  strangely  dark,  though  wanting  still  an  hour  of 
sunset.  The  freezing  storm  soon  penetrated  to  the 
skin,  but  the  uneasy  trot  of  our  hea\y-gaited  horses 
kept  us  warm  enough,  as  we  forced  them  unwillingly 
in  the  teeth  of  the  sleet  and  rain  by  the  powerful 
suasion  of  our  Indian  whips.  The  prairie  in  this 
place  was  hard  and  level.  A  flourishing  colony  of 
prairie-dogs  had  burrowed  into  it  in  every  direction, 
and  the  little  mounds  of  fresh  earth  around  their 
holes  were  about  as  numerous  as  the  hills  in  a  corn- 


THE   BUFFALO.  yj 

field  ;  but  not  a  yelp  was  to  be  heard  ;  not  the  nose 
of  a  single  citizen  was  visible  ;  all  had  retired  to  the 
depths  of  their  burrows,  and  we  envied  them  their 
dry  and  comfortable  habitations.  An  hour's  hard 
riding  showed  us  our  tent  dimly  looming  through 
the  storm,  one  side  puffed  out  by  the  force  of  the 
wind,  and  the  other  collapsed  in  proportion,  while 
the  disconsolate  horses  stood  shivering  close  around, 
and  the  wind  kept  up  a  dismal  whistling  in  the 
boughs  of  three  old  half-dead  trees  above.  Shaw, 
like  a  patriarch,  sat  on  his  saddle  in  the  entrance, 
with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  arms  folded,  con- 
templating, with  cool  satisfaction,  the  piles  of  meat 
that  we  flung  on  the  ground  before  him.  A  dark 
and  dreary  night  succeeded  ;  but  the  sun  rose  with 
a  heat  so  sultry  and  languid  that  the  Captain  ex- 
cused himself  on  that  account  from  waylaying  an 
old  buffalo-bull,  who  with  stupid  gravity  was  walking 
over  the  prairie  to  drink  at  the  river.  So  much  for 
the  chmate  of  the  Platte  ! 

But  it  was  not  the  weather  alone  that  had  pro- 
duced this  sudden  abatement  of  the  sportsman-like 
zeal  which  the  Captain  had  always  professed.  He 
had  been  out  on  the  afternoon  before,  together  with 
several  members  of  his  party  ;  but  their  hunting 
was  attended  with  no  other  result  than  the  loss  of 
one  of  their  best  horses,  severely  injured  by  Sorel, 
in  vainly  chasing  a  wounded  bull.  The  Captain, 
whose  ideas  of  hard  riding  were  all  derived  from 
transatlantic  sources,  expressed  the  utmost  amaze- 
ment at  the  feats  of  Sorel,  who  went  leaping  ravines, 
and  dashing  at  full  speed  up  and  down  the  sides  of 
precipitous  hills,  lashing  his  horse  with  the  reckless- 
ness of  a  Rocky  Mountain  rider.  Unfortunately  for 
the  poor  animal,  he  was  the  property  of  R.,  against 
whom  Sorel  entertained  an  unljounded  aversion. 
The  Captain  himself,  it  seemed,  had  also  attempted 


78  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

to  ' '  run  ' '  a  buffalo,  but  though  a  good  and  practised 
horseman,  he  had  soon  given  over  the  attempt, 
being  astonished  and  utterly  disgusted  at  the  nature 
of  the  ground  he  was  required  to  ride  over. 

Nothing  unusual  occurred  on  that  day  ;  but  on 
the  following  morning,  Henry  Chatillon,  looking 
over  the  ocean-like  expanse,  saw  near  the  foot  of 
the  distant  hills  something  that  looked  like  a  band 
of  buffalo.  He  was  not  sure,  he  said,  but  at  all 
events,  if  they  were  buffalo,  there  was  a  fine  chance 
for  a  race.  Shaw  and  I  at  once  determined  to  try 
the  speed  of  our  horses. 

"  Come,  Captain  ;  we'll  see  which  can  ride  hard- 
est, a  Yankee  or  an  Irishman." 

But  the  Captain  maintained  a  grave  and  austere 
countenance.  He  mounted  his  led  horse,  however, 
though  verj'  slowly  ;  and  we  set  out  at  a  trot.  The 
game  appeared  about  three  miles  distant.  As  we 
proceeded,  the  Captain  made  various  remarks  of 
doubt  and  indecision  ;  and  at  length  declared  he 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  such  a  break-neck 
business  ;  protesting  that  he  had  ridden  plenty  of 
steeple-chases  in  his  day,  but  he  never  knew  what 
riding  was  till  he  found  himself  behind  a  band  of 
buffalo  day  before  yesterday.  "  I  am  convinced," 
said  the  Captain,  "that  'running'  is  out  of  the 
question.*  Take  my  advice  now,  and  don't  attempt 
it.      It's  dangerous,  and  of  no  use  at  all." 

' '  Then  why  did  you  come  out  with  us  ?  What  do 
you  mean  to  do  ?' ' 

"  I  shall  'approach,'  "  replied  the  Captain. 

"You   don't  mean  to  'approach'  with  your  pis- 

*  The  method  of  hunting  called  "running"  consists  in 
attacking  the  buffalo  on  horseback,  and  shooting  him  with 
bullets  or  arrows  when  at  full  speed.  In  "  approaching  " 
the  hunter  conceals  himself,  and  crawls  on  the  ground  to- 
ward the  game,  or  Ues  in  wait  to  kill  them. 


THE   BUFFALO.  79 

tols,  do  you  ?     We  have  all  of  us  left  our  rifles  in 
the  wagons." 

The  Captain  seemed  staggered  at  this  suggestion. 
In  his  characteristic  indecision  at  setting  out, 
pistols,  rifles,  '•  running,"  and  "approaching"  were 
mingled  in  an  inextricable  medley  in  his  brain.  He 
trotted  on  in  silence  between  us  for  a  while  :  but  at 
length  he  dropped  behind,  and  slowly  walked  his 
horse  back  to  rejoin  the  party.  Shaw  and  I  kept 
on  ;  when  lo  I  as  we  advanced,  the  band  of  buffalo 
were  transformed  into  certain  clumps  of  tall  busEes. 
dotting  the  prairie  for  a  considerable"  distance.  At 
this  ludicrous  termination  of  our  chase  we  foUowed 
the  example  of  our  late  ally,  and  turned  back 
toward  the  parr\-.  We  were  skirting  the  brink  of  a 
deep  ravine,  when  we  saw  Henr\-  and  the  broad- 
chested  pony  coming  toward  us  at  a  gallop. 

•*  Here's  old  Papin  and  Frederic,  down  from  Fort 
Laramie  I"  shouted  Henr)-,  long  before  he  came  up. 
We  had  for  some  days  expected  this  encounter. 
Papin  was  the  bourgtois  of  Fort  Laramie.  He  had 
come  down  the  river  with  the  buffalo-robes  and  the 
beaver,  the  produce  of  the  last  winter' s  trading.  I 
had  among  our  baggage  a  letter  which  I  wished  to 
commit  to  their  hands  ;  so  requesting  Henr)-  to 
detain  the  boats  if  he  could  until  my  return,  I  set 
out  after  the  wagons.  They  were  about  four  miles 
in  advance.  In  half  an  hour  I  overtook  them,  got 
the  letter,  trotted  back  upon  the  trail,  and  looking 
carefully  as  I  rode,  saw  a  patch  of  broken,  storm- 
blasted  trees,  and  moving  near  them  some  little 
black  specks  like  men  and  horses.  .Arriving  at  the 
place,  I  found  a  strange  assembly.  The  boats, 
eleven  in  number,  deep-laden  with  the  skins, 
hugged  close  to  the  shore  to  escape  being  borne 
down  by  the  swift  current.  The  rowers,  swarthy 
ignoble  Mexicans,  turned  their  brutish  faces  upward 


80  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

to  look  as  I  reached  the  bank.  Papin  sat  in  the  mid- 
dle of  one  of  the  boats,  upon  the  canvas  covering  that 
protected  the  robes.  He  was  a  stout,  robust  fellow, 
with  a  little  gray  eye  that  had  a  peculiarly  sly  twinkle. 
"  Frederic,"  also,  stretched  his  tall  raw-boned  pro- 
portions close  by  the  bourgeois,  and  ' '  mountain 
men"  completed  the  group;  some  lounging  in 
the  boats,  some  strolling  on  shore  ;  some  attired^ilT 
gayly  painted  buttalo-robes,  like  Indian  dandies  ;~ 
some  with  hair  saturated  with  red  paint,  and  be- 
plastered  with  glue  to  their  temples  ;  and  one  be- 
daubed with  vermilion  upon  the  forehead  and  each 
cheek.  They  were  a  mongrel  race  ;  yet  the  French 
blood  seemed  to  predominate :  in  a  few,  indeed, 
might  be  seen  the  black,  snaky  eye  of  the  Indian 
half  breed,  and  one  and  all,  they  seemed  to  aim  at 
assimilating  themselves  to  their  savage  associates. 

I  shook  hands  with  the  bourgeois,  and  deli\ered 
the  letter :  then  the  boats  swung  round  into  the 
stream  and  floated  away.  They  had  reason  for 
haste,  for  already  the  voyage  from  Fort  Laramie 
had  occupied  a  full  month,  and  the  river  was  grow- 
ing daily  more  shallow.  Fifty  times  a  day  the  boats 
had  been  aground  :  indeed,  those  who  navigate  the 
Platte  invariably  spend  half  their  time  upon  sand- 
bars. Two  of  these  boats,  the  property-  of  private 
traders,  afterward  separating  from  the  rest,  got  hope- 
lessly involved  in  the  shallows,  not  ver\-  far  from 
the  Pawnee  villages,  and  were  soon  surrounded  by 
a  swarm  of  the  inhabitants.  They  carried  off  every- 
thing that  they  considered  valuable,  including  most 
of  the  robes  ;  and  amused  themselves  by  tying  up 
the  men  left  on  guard  and  soundly  whipping  them 
with  sticks. 

We  encamped  that  night  upon  the  bank  of  the 
river.  Among  the  emigrants  there  was  an  over- 
grown boy,  some  eighteen  years  old,  with  a  head 


THE  BUFFALO.  8 1 

as  round  and  about  as  large  as  a  pumpkin,  and 
fever^nd-ague  fits  had  dyed  his  face  of  a  corre- 
sponding color.  He  wore  an  old  white  hat,  tied 
under  his  chin  with  a  handkerchief ;  his  body  was 
short  and  stout,  but  his  legs  of  disproportioned  and 
appalling  length.  I  observed  him  at  sunset  breast- 
ing the  hill  with  gigantic  strides,  and  standing 
against  the  sky  on  the  summit  like  a  colossal  pair 
of  tongs.  In  a  moment  after  we  heard  him  scream- 
ing frantically  behind  the  ridge,  and  nothing  doubt- 
ing that  he  was  in  the  clutches  of  Indians  or  grizzly 
bears,  some  of  the  party  caught  up  their  rifles  and 
ran  to  the  rescue.  His  outcries,  however,  proved 
but  an  ebullition  of  joyous  e.xcitement ;  he  had  chased 
tvvo  little  wolf  pups  to  their  burrow,  and  he  was  on 
his  knees,  grubbing  away  like  a  dog  at  the  mouth 
of  the  hole,  to  get  at  them. 

Before  morning  he  caused  more  serious  disquiet 
in  the  camp.  It  was  his  turn  to  hold  the  middle- 
guard  ;  but  no  sooner  was  he  called  up  than  he 
coolly  arranged  a  pair  of  saddle-bags  under  a  wagon, 
laid  his  head  upon  them,  closed  his  eyes,  opened 
his  mouth,  and  fell  asleep.  The  guard  on  our  side 
of  the  camp,  thinking  it  no  part  of  his  duty  to  look 
after  the  cattle  of  the  emigrants,  contented  himself 
with  watching  our  own  horses  and  mules  ;  the 
wolves,  he  said,  were  unusually  noisy  ;  but  still  no 
mischief  was  anticipated  until  the  sun  rose,  and  not 
a  hoof  or  horn  was  in  sight  1  The  cattle  were  gone  ! 
While  Tom  was  quietly  slumbering,  the  wolves  had 
driven  them  away. 

Then  we  reaped  the  fruits  of  R.'s  precious  plan 
of  travelling  in  company  with  emigrants.  To  leave 
them  in  their  distress  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and 
we  felt  bound  to  wait  until  the  cattle  could  be 
searched  for,  and,  if  possible,  recovered.  But  the 
reader  may  be  curious  to  know  what  punishment 


82  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

awaited  the  faithless  Tom.  By  the  wholesome  law 
of  the  prairie,  he  who  falls  asleep  on  gtiard  is  con- 
demned to  walk  all  day,  leading  his  horse  by  the 
bridle,  and  we  found  much  fault  with  our  companions 
for  not  enforcing  such  a  sentence  on  the  offender. 
Nevertheless,  had  he  been  of  our  own  part>-  1  have 
no  doubt  that  he  would  in  like  manner  have  escaped 
scot-free.  But  the  emigrants  went  farther  than  mere 
forbearance  :  they  decreed  that  since  Tom  couldn't 
stand  guard  without  falling  asleep,  he  shouldn't 
stand  guard  at  all,  and  hencefonvard  his  slumbers 
were  unbroken.  Establishing  such  a  premiiom  on 
drowsiness  could  have  no  verv^  beneficial  effect  upon 
the  vigilance  of  our  sentinels  ;  for  it  is  far  from 
agreeable,  after  riding  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  to 
feel  your  slumbers  interrupted  by  the  butt  of  a  rifle 
nudging  your  side,  and  a  sleepy  voice  growling  in 
your  ear  that  you  must  get  up,  to  shiver  and  freeze 
for  three  wearv'  hours  at  midnight. 

"  Buffalo  !  buffalo  I"  It  was  but  a  grim  old  bull, 
roaming  the  prairie  by  himself  in  misanthropic  se- 
clusion ;  but  there  might  be  more  behind  the  hills. 
Dreading  the  monotony  and  languor  of  the  camp, 
Shaw  and  I  saddled  our  horses,  buckled  our  holsters 
in  their  places,  and  set  out  with  Henr\-  Chatillon  in 
search  of  the  game.  Henn',  not  intending  to  take 
part  in  the  chase,  but  merely  conducting  us,  carried 
his  rifle  with  him,  while  we  left  ours  behind  as  in- 
cumbrances. We  rode  for  some  five  or  six  miles, 
and  saw  no  living  thing  but  wolves,  snakes,  and 
prairie-dogs. 

"  This  won't  do  at  all,"  said  Shaw. 

"  ^^^lat  won't  do  ?' ' 

' '  There' s  no  wood  about  here  to  make  a  litter  for 
the  wounded  man  :  I  have  an  idea  that  one  of  us 
will  need  something  of  the  sort  before  the  day  is 
over." 


THE    BUFFALO.  83 

There  was  some  foundation  for  such  an  appre- 
hension, for  the  ground  was  none  of  the  best  for  a 
race,  and  grew  worse  continually  as  we  proceeded  ; 
indeed  it  soon  became  desperately  bad,  consisting 
of  abrupt  hills  and  deep  hollows,  cut  by  frequent 
ravines  not  easy  to  pass.  At  length,  a  mile  in  ad- 
vance, we  saw  a  band  of  bulls.  Some  were  scat- 
tered grazing  over  a  greendeclivity,  while  the  rest 
were  crowded  more  densely  together  in  the  wide 
hollow  below.  Making  a  circuit,  to  keep  out  of 
sight,  we  rode  toward  them,  until  we  ascended  a 
hill,  \\-ithin  a  furlong  of  them,  beyond  which  nothing 
intervened  that  could  possibly  screen  us  from  their 
view.  We  dismounted  behind  the  ridge  just  out  of 
sight,  drew  our  saddle-girths,  examined  our  pistols, 
and  mounting  again,  rode  over  the  hill,  and  de- 
scended at  a  canter  toward  them,  bending  close  to 
our  horses'  necks.  Instantly  they  took  the  alarm  ; 
those  on  the  hill  descended  ;  those  below  gathered 
into  a  mass,  and  the  whole  got  in  motion,  shoul- 
dering each  other  along  at  a  clumsy  gallop.  We 
followed,  spurring  our  horses  to  full  speed  ;  and  as 
the  herd  rushed,  crowding  and  trampling  in  terror 
through  an  opening  in  the  hills,  we  were  close  at 
their  heels,  half  sufifocated  by  the  clouds  of  dust. 
But  as  we  drew  near  their  alarm  and  speed  in- 
creased ;  our  horses  showed  signs  of  the  utmost  fear, 
bounding  violently  aside  as  we  approached,  and 
refusing  to  enter  among  the  herd.  The  buffalo  now 
broke  into  several  small  bodies,  scampering  over  the 
hills  in  different  directions,  and  I  lost  sight  of  Shaw  ; 
neither  of  us  knew  where  the  other  had  gone.  Old 
Pontiac  ran  like  a  frantic  elephant  up  hill  and  down 
hill,  his  ponderous  hoofs  striking  the  prairie  like 
sledge-hammers.  He  showed  a  curious  mixture  of 
eagerness  and  terror,  straining  to  overtake  the  panic- 
stricken  herd,  but  constantly  recoiling  in  dismay  as 


84  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

we  drew  near.  The  fi^ibres,  indeed.  <iflfeied  no 
ver\'  altiacdve  ^lectade.  with  tfaeir  enonnoos  size 
and  wdglit.  their  shaggy  manes  and  the  tatteied 
remnants  of  thor  last  winter''s  hair  cof^eiii^  their 
backs  in  irregular  diieds  and  patches,  and  flying 
iM  in  the  wind  as  th^  lan.  At  lex^th  I  mged  my 
horse  dose  behind  a  bull,  and  afijO"  trying  in  Tain, 
by  Uows  and  s{Hirring,  to  biing  him  aloi^-side,  I 
^ot  a  Imllet  into  the  bofiblo  fivm  Ais  disadvan- 
tageous position.  At  the  report,  Ponliac  sw^^ed 
so  much  diat  I  was  again  thrown  a  little  behind  the 
game.  The  bullet  entering  too  much  in  the  rear, 
fedled  to  disable  the  bull,  for  a  bu&lcrreqnires  to  be 
shot  at  particular  pcnnts.  at  he  will  cotainly  escape. 
The  herd  ran  up  a  hill,  and  I  fidlowed  in  pursuiL 
As  Pontiac  ntdied  headlong  down  on  the  otl^  side. 
I  saw  Shaw  and  Henry  flesoending  the  hfdlow  cm  the 
right  at  a  lessurdy  gallon  *  and  in  frimt  the  buffido 
were  just  disappearii^  bdhind  the  crest  di.  the  next 
hill,  tfaeir  short  fails  oedt,  and  their  hoo&  iwinHing 
thnx^i  a  cloud  of  dusL 

At  that  nuHnent  I  heard  Shaw  and  Henry  shout- 
ktg  to  me  ;  but  the  muscles  of  a  stnn^;er  aim  dian 
mine  could  not  have  checked  at  once  the  finions 
course  tA  Pontiac,  whose  mouth  was  as  insenable  as 
leather.  Added  to  this,  I  rode  him  that  morning 
'n-ith  a  common  snafSe.  having  the  day  before.  i(x 
the  benefit  <rf  my  other  horse,  unbuckled  frcnn  my 
bridle  the  curb  which  I  cadinaiily  used.  A  stronger 
and  haixSier  brute  never  trod  the  prairie :  but  the 
novel  sight  of  the  bul&do  filled  him  with  tenor,  and 
when  at  hill  ^leed  he  was  almost  uncontrollable. 
Coining  the  tr^  iA  die  rii%e,  I  saw  nothii^  cS.  the 
bufiblo  ;  they  haid  all  vani^ed  amid  the  intiicades 
of  the  hills  and  ludlows.  Reloadii^  my  pistols,  in 
the  b^t  way  I  could,  I  gaUc^ied  on  until  I  saw  them 
again  scutding  jil«pig  at  the  base  fA  the  hiU,  their 


THE   BUFFALO.  85 

panic  somewhat  abated.  Down  went  old  Pontiac 
among  them,  scattering  them  to  the  right  and  left, 
and  then  we  had  another  long  chase.  About  a 
dozen  bulls  were  before  us.  scouring  over  the  hills, 
rushing  down  the  declivities  with  tremendous  weight 
and  impetuosity,  and  then  laboring  with  a  weary 
gallop  upward.  Still,  Pontiac,  in  spite  of  spurring 
and  beating,  would  not  close  with  them.  One  bull 
at  length  fell  a  little  behind  the  rest,  and  by  dint  of 
mucheftbrt,  I  urged  my  horse  within  six  or  eight 
yards  of  his  side.  His  back  was  darkened  with 
sweat  :  he  was  panting  heavily,  while  his  tongue 
lolled  out  a  foot  from  his  jaws.  Gradually  1  came 
up  abreast  of  him,  urging  Pontiac  with  leg  and  rein 
nearer  to  his  side,  when  suddenly  he  did  what  buf- 
falo in  such  circumstances  will  always  do  ;  he  slack- 
ened his  gallop,  and  turning  toward  us,  with  an 
aspect  of  mingled  rage  and  distress,  lowered  his 
huge  shaggy  head  for  a  charge.  Pontiac,  with  a 
snort,  leaped  aside  in  terror,  nearly  throwing  me  to 
the  ground,  as  I  was  wholly  unprepared  for  such  an 
evolution.  I  raised  my  pistol  in  a  passion  to  strike 
him  on  the  head,  but  thinking  better  of  it,  tired  the 
bullet  after  the  bull,  who  had  resumed  his  flight ; 
then  drew  rein,  and  determined  to  rejoin  my  com- 
panions. It  was  high  time.  The  breath  blew  hard 
from  Pontiac' s  nostrils,  and  the  sweat  rolled  in  big 
drops  down  his  sides  ;  I  myself  felt  as  if  drenched  in 
warm  water.  Pledging  myself  (and  1  redeemed  the 
pledge)  to  take  my  revenge  at  a  future  opportunity-,  I 
looked  around  for  some  indications  to  show  me  where 
I  was,  and  what  course  I  ought  to  pursue  ;  I  might 
as  well  have  looked  for  landmarks  in  the  midst  of 
the  ocean.  How  many  miles  I  had  run.  or  in  what 
direction,  I  had  no  idea  ;  and  around  me  the  prairie 
was  rolling  in  steep  swells  and  pitches,  without  a 
single  distinctive  feature  to  guide  me.     I  had  a  little 


86  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

compass  hung  at  my  neck  ;  and  ignorant  that  the 
Platte  at  this  point  diverged  considerabh'  from  its 
easterly  course,  I  thought  that  by  keeping  to  the 
northward  I  should  certainly  reach  it.  So  I  turned 
and  rode  about  two  hours  in  that  direction.  The 
prairie  changed  as  I  advanced,  softening  away  into 
easier  undulations,  but  nothing  like  the  Platte  ap- 
peared, nor  any  sign  of  a  human  being  ;  the  same 
wild  endless  expanse  lay  around  me  still  ;  and  to  all 
appearance  I  was  as  far  from  my  object  as  ever.  I 
began  now  to  consider  myself  in  danger  of  being 
lost  ;  and  therefore,  reining  in  my  horse,  summoned 
the  scant}-  share  of  woodcraft  that  I  possessed  (if 
that  term  be  applicable  upon  the  prairie)  to  extricate 
me.  Looking  around,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the 
buffalo  might  prove  my  best  guides.  I  soon  found 
one  of  the  paliis  made  by  them  in  their  passage  to 
the  river  ;  it  ran  nearly  at  right  angles  to  my 
course  ;  but  turning  my  horse's  head  in  the  direc- 
tion it  indicated,  his  freer  gait  and  erected  ears 
assured  me  that  I  was  right. 

But  in  the  meantime  my  ride  had  been  by  no 
means  a  solitary  one.  The  whole  face  of  the  coun- 
tr\'  was  dotted  far  and  wide  with  countless  hundreds 
of  buffalo.  They  trooped  along  in  files  and  columns, 
bulls,  cows,  and  calves,  on  the  green  faces  of  the 
declivities  in  front.  They  scrambled  away  over  the 
hills  to  the  right  and  left  ;  and  far  off,  the  pale  blue 
swells  in  the  extreme  distance  were  dotted  v^-ith 
innumerable  specks.  Sometimes  I  surprised  shaggy 
old  bulls  grazing  alone,  or  sleeping  behind  the  ridges 
I  ascended.  They  would  leap  up  at  my  approach, 
stare  stupidly  at  me  through  their  tangled  manes, 
and  then  gallop  heavily  away.  The  antelope  were 
ven,-  numerous  ;  and  as  they  are  always  bold  when 
in  the  neighborhood  of  buffalo,  they  would  ap- 
proach  quite  near  to  look  at  me,  gazing  intently 


THE  BUFFALO.  8/ 

with  their  great  round  eyes,  then  suddenly  leap 
aside,  and  stretch  lightly  away  over  the  prairie,  as 
swiftly  as  a  race-horse.  Squalid,  ruffian-like  wolves 
sneaked  through  the  hollows  and  sandy  ravines. 
Several  times  I  passed  through  \illages  of  prairie- 
dogs,  who  sat,  each  at  the  mouth  of  his  burrow, 
holding  his  paws  before  him  in  a  suppHcating  attitude, 
and  yelping  away  most  vehemently,  energetically 
whisking  his  little  tail  with  every  squeaking  crj-  he  ut- 
tered. Prairie-dogs  are  not  fastidious  in  their  choice 
of  companions  ;  various  long,  checkered  snakes  were 
sunning  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  village,  and 
demure  little  gray  owls,  with  a  large  white  ring 
around  each  eye,  were  perched  side  by  side  with 
the  rightful  inhabitants.  The  prairie  teemed  with 
life.  Again  and  again  I  looked  toward  the  crowded 
hill-sides,  and  was  sure  I  saw  horsemen  ;  and  riding 
near,  with  a  mixture  of  hope  and  dread,  for  Indians 
were  abroad,  I  found  them  transformed  into  a  group 
of  buffalo.  There  was  nothing  in  human  shape 
amid  all  this  vast  congregation  of  brute  forms. 

When  I  turned  down  the  buffalo-path  the  prairie 
seemed  changed  ;  only  a  wolf  or  two  glided  past  at 
intervals,  like  conscious  felons,  never  looking  to  the 
right  or  left.  Being  now  free  from  anxiety,  I  was  at 
leisure  to  obser\-e  minutely  the  objects  around  me  ; 
and  here,  for  the  first  time,  I  noticed  insects  wholly 
different  from  any  of  the  varieties  found  farther  to  the 
eastward.  Gaudy  butterflies  fluttered  about  my 
horse's  head  ;  strangely  formed  beetles,  glittering 
with  metallic  lustre,  were  crawling  upon  plants  that 
I  had  never  seen  before  ;  multitudes  of  lizards,  too, 
were  darting  like  lightning  over  the  sand. 

I  had  run  to  a  great  distance  from  the  river.  It 
cost  me  a  long  ride  on  the  buffalo-path  before  I  saw, 
from  the  ridge  of  a  sand-hill,  the  pale  surface  of 
the  Platte  glistening  in  the  midst  of  its  desert  val- 


«5  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

leys,  and  the  faint  outline  of  the  hills  beyond  wav- 
ing along  the  sky.  From  where  I  stood  not  a  tree 
nor  a  bush  nor  a  hving  thing  was  \-isible  throughout 
the  whole  extent  of  the  sun-scorched  landscape. 
In  half  an  hour  1  came  upon  the  trail,  not  far  fi-om 
the  river  ;  and  seeing  that  the  party  had  not  yet 
passed,  I  turned  eastvvard  to  meet  them,  old  Pon- 
tiac's  long  swinging  trot  again  assuring  me  that  I 
was  right  in  doing  so.  Having  been  shghtly  ill  on 
leaving  camp  in  the  morning,  six  or  seven  hours  of 
rough  riding  had  fatigued  me  extremely.  I  soon 
stopped,  therefore  ;  flung  my  saddle  on  the  ground, 
and  with  my  head  resting  on  it,  and  my  horse's 
trail-rope  tied  loosely  to  my  arm,  lay  waiting  the 
arrival  of  the  party,  speculating  meanwhile  on  the 
extent  of  the  injuries  Pontiac  had  received.  At 
length  the  white  wagon  coverings  rose  from  the 
verge  of  the  plain.  By  a  singular  coincidence, 
almost  at  the  same  moment  two  horsemen  appeared 
coming  down  from  the  hills.  They  were  Shaw  and 
Henrj',  who  had  searched  for  me  awhile  in  the 
morning,  but  well  knowing  the  futility  of  the  at- 
tempt in  such  a  broken  countr\-,  had  placed  them- 
selves on  the  top  of  the  highest  hill  they  could  6nd, 
and  picketing  their  horses  near  them,  as  a  signal  to 
me,  had  laid  down  and  fallen  asleep.  The  stray 
cattle  had  been  recovered,  as  the  emigrants  told 
us,  about  noon.  Before  sunset,  we  pushed  forward 
eight  miles  farther. 

"June  7,  1846. — Four  men  are  missing:  R.,  Sorel.  and 
two  emigrants'.  Fhcy  GCt-tmt  -dris  morning  after  bafl&lo,  and 
have  not  yet  made  their  apjiearance  ;  whether  killed  or  lost, 

we  cannot  tell." 

I  find  the  above  in  my  note -book,  and  well  re- 
member the  council  held  on  the  occasion.  Our  fire 
was  the  scene  of  it ;  for  the  palpable  superiorit)-  of 
Henry  Chatillon's  experience  and  skill  made  him 


THE   BUFFALO.  89 

the  resort  of  the  whole  camp  upon  every  question 
of  difficulty.  He  was  moulding  bullets  at  the  fire 
when  the  Captain  drew  near,  with  a  perturbed  and 
care-worn  expression  of  countenance,  faithfully  re- 
flected on  the  heavy  features  of  Jack,  who  followed 
close  behind.  Then  emigrants  came  straggling 
from  their  wagons  toward  the  common  centre  ; 
various  suggestions  were  made  to  account  for  the 
absence  of  the  four  men  ;  and  one  or  two  of  the 
emigrants  declared  that  when  out  after  the  cattle, 
they  had  seen  Indians  dogging  them,  and  crawling 
like  wolves  along  the  ridges  of  the  hills.  At  this 
the  Captain  slowly  shook  his  head  with  double 
gravity,  and  solemnly  remarked  : 

"  It's  a  serious  thing  to  be  travelling  through  this 
cursed  wilderness;"  an  opinion  in  which  Jack 
immediately  expressed  a  thorough  coincidence. 
Henry  would  not  commit  himself  by  declaring  any 
positive  opinion  : 

"Maybe  he  only  follow  the  buffalo  too  far; 
maybe  Indian  kill  him  ;  maybe  he  got  lost  ;  I  can- 
not tell  !" 

With  this  the  auditors  were  obliged  to  rest  con- 
tent ;  the  emigrants,  not  in  the  least  alarmed, 
though  curious  to  know  what  had  become  of  their 
comrades,  walked  back  to  their  wagons,  and  the 
Captain  betook  himself  pensively  to  his  tent. 
Shaw  and  1  followed  his  example. 

"  It  will  be  a  bad  thing  for  our  plans,"  said  he  as 
we  entered,  "if  these  fellows  don't  get  back  safe. 
The  Captain  is  as  helpless  on  the  prairie  as  a  child. 
We  shall  have  to  take  him  and  his  brother  in  tow; 
they  will  hang  on  us  like  lead." 

"The  prairie  is  a  strange  place,"  said  I.  "A 
month  ago  I  should  have  thought  it  rather  a  start- 
ling affair  to  have  an  acquaintance  ride  out  in  the 
morning  and  lose  his  scalp  before  night,  but  here  it 


90  THE   OKEGOJV  TRAIL. 

seems  the  most  natural  thiBg  in  the  world  ;  not  diat 
I  believe  that  R.  has  lost  his  yet." 

If  a  man  is  constitutionally  liable  to  nen^ous  appre- 
hensions, a  tour  on  the  disl^t  prairies  would  prove 
the  best  prescription  ;  for  though  when  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Rocky  Mountains  he  may  at  times  find 
hiTn«M>lf  placed  in  annnnstances  of  some  danger,  I  be- 
lieve that  few  ever  breathe  that  reckless  atmosphere 
without  bec(Hning  almost,  indifferent  to  any  evnl 
chance  that  may  be&ll  themselves  or  their  friends. 

Shaw  had  a  propensity  for  luxurious  indulgence. 
He  spread  his  blanlcet  with  the  utmost  accuracy  on 
the  ground,  picked  up  the  sticks  and  stones  that  he 
thought  might  interfere  with  his  comfort,  adjusted 
his  saddle  to  serve  as  a  pillow,  and  composed  him- 
self for  his  night's  rest.  I  had  the  first  guard  that 
evening  ;  so,  taking  my  rifle,  1  went  out  of  the  tent. 
It  was  perfectly  dark.  A  brisk  wind  blew  down 
firom  the  lulls,  and  the  sparks  from  the  fire  were 
streaming  over  the  prairie.  One  of  the  emigrants, 
named  Morton,  was  my  companion  ;  and  la)-ing 
our  rifles  on  the  grass  we  sat  down  together  by  the 
fire.  Morton  was  a  Kentuckian^  an  athletic  fdlow, 
with  a  fine,  intelligent  &ce,  and  in  his  manners  and 
conversation  he  showed  the  essential  characteristics 
of  a  gendeman.  Our  conversation  turned  on  the 
pioneers  of  his  gallant  native  state.  The  three 
hours  of  our  watch  dragged  away  at  last,  and  we 
went  to  call  up  the  rehef. 

R.'s  guard  succeeded  mine.  He  was  absent ; 
but  the  Captain,  anxious  lest  the  camp  should  be 
left  defenceless,  had  volunteered  to  stand  in  his 
place  ;  so  1  went  to  wake  him  up.  There  was  no 
occasion  for  it,  for  the  Captain  had  been  awake  since 
night&ll.  A  fire  was  blazing  outside  of  the  tent. 
and  by  the  light  which  struck  through  the  canvas  I 
saw  him  and  Jack  l>"ing  on  their  backs  with  their 


TAKIXG   FREiXCH  LEAVE.  9 1 

eyes  wide  open.  The  Captain  responded  instantly 
to  my  call  ;  he  jumped  up,  seized  the  double-bar- 
relled rifle,  and  came  out  of  the  tent  with  an  air  of 
solemn  determination,  as  if  about  to  devote  him- 
self to  the  safety  of  the  party.  I  went  and  lay 
down,  not  doubting  that  for  the  next  three  hours  our 
slumbers  would  be  guarded  with  sufficient  vigilance. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

TAKING    FRENCH    LEAVE. 
"  Parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow  !" — Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Ox  the  eighth  of  June,  at  eleven  o'clock,  we 
reached  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte,  at  the  usual 
fording-place.  For  league  upon  league  the  desert 
uniformity  of  the  prospect  was  almost  unbroken  ; 
the  hills  were  dotted  with  little  tufts  of  shrivelled 
grass,  but  betwixt  these  the  white  sand  was  glaring 
in  the  sun  ;  and  the  channel  of  the  river,  almost  on 
a  level  with  the  plain,  was  but  one  great  sand-bed 
about  half  a  mile  wide.  It  was  covered  with  water, 
but  so  scantily  that  the  bottom  was  scarcelv  hidden  '; 
for,  wide  as  it  is,  the  average  depth  of  the  Platte 
does  not  at  this  point  exceed  a  foot  and  a  half. 
Stopping  near  its  bank,  we  gathered  bois  de  vac  he, 
and  made  a  meal  of  buffalo-meat.  Far  off,  on  the 
other  side,  was  a  green  meadow,  where  we  could 
see  the  white  tents  and  wagons  of  an  emigrant 
camp  ;  and  just  opposite  to  us  we  could  discern  a 
group  of  men  and  animals  at  the  water's  edge. 
Four  or  five  horsemen  soon  entered  the  river,  and 
in  ten  minutes  had  waded  across  and  clambered  up 
the  loose  sand-bank.     They  were  ill-looking  fellows, 


92  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

thin  and  swarthy,  with  care-wom,  anxious  fiaces,  and 
lips  rigidly  compressed.  They  had  good  cause  for 
anxiay  ;  it  was  three  days  since  they  first  encamped 
here,  and  on  the  night  of  their  arrival  they  had  lost 
one  hundred  and  twent}- -three  of  their  best  cattle, 
driven  off  by  the  wolves,  through  the  neglect  of  the 
man  on  guard.  This  discouraging  and  alarming 
calaxnii}'  was  not  the  first  that  had  overtaken  them. 
Since  leaving  the  s^tlements  they  had  met  vi-ith 
nothing  but  misfortune.  Some  of  their  party^  had 
died ;  one  man  had  been  killed  by  the  Pawnees  ; 
and  about  a  we^  brfore  they  had  been  plundered 
by  the  Dahcotahs  of  all  their  best  horses,  the 
wretched  animals  on  which  our  visitors  were  moiinted 
boi^  die  only  ones  that  were  left.  They  had  en- 
camped, they  told  us,  near  sunset,  by  the  side  of 
the  Flatte.  and  their  oxen  were  scattered  over  the 
meadow,  while  the  band  of  horses  were  feeding  a 
little  &rther  off.  Suddenly  the  ridges  of  the  hills 
w^re  aUve  with  a  swarm  of  mounted  Indians,  at 
least  ax  hundred  in  number,  who,  w-ith  a  tremendous 
yell,  came  pouring  down  toward  the  camp,  rushing 
up  within  a  few  rods,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  emi- 
grants ;  but  suddenly  wheehng,  they  swept  aroimd 
flie  band  of  horses,  and  in  five  minutes  had  dis- 
appeared with  their  prey  through  the  openings  of 
the  hiUs. 

As  diese  em^rants  were  telling  their  story,  we 
saw  four  other  men  approaching.  They  proved  to 
be  R-  and  his  compaaiMis,  who  had  encountered  no 
mischance  of  any  kind,  but  had  only  wandered  too 
fer  in  pursuit  of  the  game.  They  said  they  had 
seen  no  Indians,  but  only  ' '  millions  of  buifalo  " " ; 
and  both  R.  and  Sorel  had  meat  danghng  behind 
dieir  saddles. 

TTie  emigrants  recrossed  the  river,  and  we  pre- 
pared to  follow.     First  the  hea^y  ox-wagons  plunged 


TAKING   FRENCH  LEAVE.  93 

down  the  bank,  and  dragged  slowly  over  the  sand- 
beds  ;  sometimes  the  hoofs  of  the  oxen  were  scarcely 
wetted  by  the  thin  sheet  of  water  ;  and  the  next 
moment  the  river  would  be  boiling  against  their 
sides,  and  eddying  fiercely  around  the  wheels.  Inch 
by  inch  they  receded  from  the  shore,  dwindling 
every  moment,  until  at  length  they  seemed  to  be 
floating  far  out  in  the  very  middle  of  the  river.  A 
more  critical  experiment  awaited  us  ;  for  our  little 
mule-cart  was  but  ill-fitted  for  the  passage  of  so 
swift  a  stream.  We  watched  it  with  anxiety  till  it 
seemed  to  be  a  little  motionless  white  speck  in  the 
midst  of  the  waters  ;  and  it  was  motionless,  for  it 
had  stuck  fast  in  a  quicksand.  The  little  mules 
were  losing  their  footing,  the  wheels  were  sinking 
deeper  and  deeper,  and  the  water  began  to  rise 
through  the  bottom  and  drench  the  goods  within. 
All  of  us  who  had  remained  on  the  hither  bank 
galloped  to  the  rescue  ;  the  men  jumped  into  the 
water,  adding  their  strength  to  that  of  the  mules, 
until  by  much  effort  the  cart  was  extricated  and 
conveyed  in  safety  across. 

As  we  gained  the  other  bank  a  rough  group  of 
men  surrounded  us.  They  were  not  robust,  nor 
large  of  frame,  yet  they  had  an  aspect  of  hardy 
endurance.  Finding  at  home  no  scope  for  their 
fier)'  energies,  they  had  betaken  themselves  to  the 
prairie  ;  and  in  them  seemed  to  be  revived,  with 
redoubled  force,  that  fierce  spirit  which  impelled 
their  ancestors,  scarce  more  lawless  than  them- 
selves, from  the  German  forests,  to  inundate  Europe 
and  break  to  pieces  the  Roman  Empire.  A  fort- 
night aftenvard  this  unfortunate  party  passed  Fort 
Laramie  while  we  were  there.  Not  one  of  their 
missing  oxen  had  been  recovered,  though  they  had 
remained  encamped  a  week  in  search  of  them  ;  and 
they  had  been  compelled  to  abandon  a  great  part 


94  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

of  their  baggage  and  provisions,  and  yoke  cows  and 
heifers  to  their  wagons  to  earn,'  them  forward  upon 
their  ioumey,  the  most  toilsome  and  hazardous  part 
of  which  lay  still  before  them. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  on  the  Platte  one  may 
sometimes  see  the  shattered  wrecks  of  ancient  claw- 
footed  tables,  well  waxed  and  rubbed,  or  massive 
bureaus  of  caned  oak.  These,  many  of  them  no 
doubt  the  relics  of  ancestral  prosperity  in  the  colonial 
time,  must  have  encountered  strange  vicissitudes. 
Imported,  perhaps,  originally  from  England  ;  then, 
with  the  dechning  fortunes  of  their  owners,  borne 
across  the  Alleghanies  to  the  remote  -wilderness  of 
Ohio  or  Kentucky  ;  then  to  lUinois  or  Missouri  ; 
and  now  at  last  fondly  stowed  away  in  the  family 
wagon  for  the  interminable  journey  to  Oregon.  But 
the  stem  privations  of  the  way  are  little  anticipated. 
The  cherished  relic  is  soon  flung  out  to  scorch  and 
crack  upon  the  hot  prairie. 

We  resumed  our  journey  ;  but  we  had  gone 
scarcely  a  mile  when  R.  called  out  from  the  rear  : 

"We'll  'camp  here!" 

"  \\Tiy  do  you  want  to  'camp  ?  Look  at  the  sun. 
It  is  not  three  o'clock  yet." 

"  We'll  'camp  here  !" 

This  was  the  only  reply  vouchsafed.  Delorier 
was  in  advance  with  his  cart.  Seeing  the  mule- 
wagon  wheeling  from  the  track,  he  began  to  turn 
his  own  team  in  the  same  direction. 

"Go  on,  Delorier  ;"  and  the  little  cart  advanced 
again.  As  we  rode  on  we  soon  heard  the  wagon 
of  our  confederates  creaking  and  jolting  on  behind 
us,  and  the  driver,  Wright,  discharging  a  furious 
volley  of  oaths  against  his  mules  ;  no  doubt  venting 
upon  them  the  wrath  which  he  dared  not  direct 
against  a  more  appropriate  object. 

Something  of  this  sort  had  frequently  occurred. 


TAKIXG   FREXCH  LEAVE.  95 

Our  English  friend  was  by  no  means  partial  to  us, 
and  we  thought  we  discovered  in  his  conduct  a 
deliberate  intention  to  thwart  and  annov  us,  es- 
pecially by  retarding  the  movements  of  the  part)-, 
which  he  knew  that  we.  being  Yankees,  were  anx- 
ious to  quicken.  Therefore  he  would  insist  on 
encamping  at  all  unseasonable  hours,  saying  that 
fifteen  miles  was  a  sufficient  day's  journey.  Find- 
ing our  wishes  systematically  disregarded,  we  took 
the  direction  of  affairs  into  our  own  hands.  Keep- 
ing always  in  advance,  to  the  inexpressible  indig- 
nation of  R. ,  we  encamped  at  what  time  and  place 
we  thought  proper,  not  much  caring  whether  the 
rest  chose  to  follow  or  not.  They  always  did  so, 
however,  pitching  their  tent  near  ours,  with  sullen 
and  wrathful  countenances. 

Travelling  together  on  these  agreeable  terms  did 
not  suit  our  tastes  ;  for  some  time  we  had  meditated 
a  separation.  The  connection  with  this  party  had 
caused  us  various  delays  and  inconveniences  ;  and 
the  glaring  want  of  courtesy  and  good  sense  dis- 
played by  their  virtual  leader  did  not  dispose  us  to 
bear  these  annoyances  with  much  patience.  We 
resolved  to  leave  camp  early  in  the  morning,  and 
push  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible  for  Fort  Laramie, 
which  we  hoped  to  reach,  by  hard  travelling,  in  four 
or  five  days.  The  Captain  soon  trotted  up  between 
us,  and  we  explained  our  intentions. 

"A  ver)'  extraordinary.-  proceeding,  upon  my 
word  1"  he  remarked.  Then  he  began  to  enlarge 
upon  the  enormity  of  the  design.  The  most  promi- 
nent impression  in  his  mind  evidently  was  that  we 
were  acting  a  base  and  treacherous  part  in  deserting 
his  party,  in  what  he  considered  a  very-  dangerous 
stage  of  the  journey.  To  palliate  the  atrocity  of 
our  conduct  we  ventured  to  suggest  that  we  were 
only  four  in  number,  while  his  party  still  included 


96 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


sixteen  men  ;  and  as,  moreover,  we  were  to  go  for- 
ward and  they  were  to  follow,  at  least  a  full  propor- 
tion of  the  perils  he  apprehended  would  fall  upon 
us.  But  the  austerity  of  the  Captain's  features 
would  not  relax.  "  A  ver)' extraoi'dinary  proceed- 
ing, gentlemen  !"  and  repeating  this,  he  rode  off  to 
confer  with  his  principal. 

By  good  luck  we  found  a  meadow  of  fresh  grass 
and  a  large  pool  of  rain-water  in  the  midst  of  it. 
We  encamped  here  at  sunset.  Plenty  of  buffalo 
skulls  were  lying  around  bleaching  in  the  sun  ;  and 
sprinkled  thickly  among  the  grass  was  a  great  va- 
riety of  strange  flowers.  I  had  nothing  else  to  do, 
and  so,  gathering  a  handful,  I  sat  down  on  a  buffalo 
skull  to  study  them.  Although  the  oft'spring  of  a 
wilderness,  their  texture  was  frail  and  delicate,  and 
their  colors  extremely  rich  :  pure  white,  dark  blue, 
and  a  transparent  crimson.  One  travelling  in  this 
country  seldom  has  leisure  to  think  of  anything  but 
the  stern  features  of  the  scenery  and  its  accompani- 
ments, or  the  practical  details  of  each  day's  jour- 
ney. Like  them,  he  and  his  thoughts  grow  hard 
and  rough.  But  now  these  flowers  suddenly  awak- 
ened a  train  of  associations  as  alien  to  the  rude 
scene  around  me  as  they  were  themselves  ;  and  for 
the  moment  my  thoughts  went  back  to  New  England. 
A  throng  of  fair  and  well-remembered  faces  rose, 
vividly  as  life,  before  me.  ' '  There  are  good  things, ' ' 
thought  I,  "in  the  savage  life,  but  what  can  it  offer 
to  replace  those  powerful  and  ennobling  influences 
that  can  reach  unimpaired  over  more  than  three 
thousand  miles  of  mountains,  forests,  and  deserts?" 

Before  sunrise  on  the  ne.xt  morning  our  tent  was 
down  ;  we  harnessed  our  best  horses  to  the  cart  and 
left  the  camp.  But  first  we  shook  hands  with  our 
friends  the  emigrants,  who  sincerely  wished  us  a 
safe  journey,  though  some  others  of  the  party  might 


TAKIXG  FRENCH  LEAVE.  97 

easily  have  been  consoled  had  we  encountered  an 
Indian  war-party  on  the  way.  The  Captain  and  his 
brother  were  standing  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  wrapped 
in  their  plaids,  like  spirits  of  the  mist,  keeping  an 
anxious  eye  on  the  band  of  horses  below.  We 
waved  adieu  to  them  as  we  rode  off  the  ground. 
The  Captain  replied  with  a  salutation  of  the  utmost 
dignity,  which  Jack  tried  to  imitate  ;  but  being  httle 
practised  in  the  gestures  of  polite  society,  his  effort 
was  not  a  ver)-  successful  one. 

In  five  minutes  we  had  gained  the  foot  of  the 
hills,  but  here  we  came  to  a  stop.  Old  Hendrick 
was  in  the  shafts,  and  being  the  very  incarnation  of 
per\'erse  and  brutish  obstinacy,  he  utterly  refused  to 
move.  Delorier  lashed  and  swore  till  he  was  tired, 
but  Hendrick  stood  like  a  rock,  grumbhng  to  him- 
self and  looking  askance  at  his  enemy,  until  he  saw 
a  favorable  opportunity  to  take  his  revenge,  when 
he  struck  out  under  the  shaft  with  such  cool  malig- 
nity of  intention  that  Delorier  only  escaped  the  blow 
by  a  sudden  skip  into  the  air,  such  as  no  one  but  a 
Frenchman  could  achieve.  Shaw  and  he  then 
joined  forces,  and  lashed  on  both  sides  at  once. 
The  brute  stood  still  for  a  while  till  he  could  bear  it 
no  longer,  when  all  at  once  he  began  to  kick  and 
plunge  till  he  threatened  the  utter  demolition  of  the 
cart  and  harness.  We  glanced  back  at  the  camp, 
which  was  in  full  sight.  Our  companions,  inspired 
by  emulation,  were  levelling  their  tents  and  driving 
in  their  cattle  and  horses. 

"  Take  the  horse  out,"  said  I. 

I  took  the  saddle  from  Pontiac  and  put  it  upon 
Hendrick  ;  the  former  was  harnessed  to  the  cart  in 
an  instant.  "  .-Ji'izwtvt/cwr.'"'  cried  Delorier.  Pon- 
tiac strode  up  the  hill,  twitching  the  little  cart  after 
him  as  if  it  were  a  feather's  weight  ;  and  though,  as 
we  gained  the  top,  we  saw  the  wagons  of  our  de- 
7 


98  THE  oreg:::  7 7.  ail. 

serted  comrade?     . ;:   rr"  ^        ~:r    -     -e  "; 

little  fear  that  il;.  ■:    -^-  -       1^:,.::.; 

trail,  we  struck  direcily  acr^^ss  ijie  couiitiy.  anz  : 
the   shortest  cut  to  reach  the  main  stream   ;;  \:rz 
Platte.      A  deep  lavine  suddenly  intercepted    us. 
We  skirted  its  sides  until  we  found  than  less  abrupt, 
and  then  plnnged  tiuough  the  best  way  we  :      .' 
Passing   behind    the  saody   ravines  called         .-r. 
Hollow,"'  we  stepped  fior  a  ^ort  nooning  i.: 
side  of  a  pool  of  lain-water  ;  but  soon  resmtr 
journeT,   and  scone  hours  befere  sunset  wert    ir- 
scending  the  ravines  and  goiges  opening  do^T.      ri 
apon  the  Platte  to  die  west  of  Ash  Hollow, 
hoiseswaded  to  the  fetlock  in  sand ;  fliesunsccrr.T  i 
like  fire,  and  the  air  swarmed  with  sand-flies  a- d 
mosquitoes. 

At  last  we  gained  the  Flatte.     Fidlowii^  ji  ioi 
about  five  miles,  we  saw,  just  as  tiie  sun  was  sink- 
ing, a  great  meadow,  dotted  with  hundreds  of  carJe. 
and  beyond  them  an  emigrant  encampment       A 
party  of  ab(K(t  a  dozen  cadie  out  to  meet  as,  1 ;       rr 
upon  OS   at   first  with  cold  and  so^icioos    : 
Seeing  fotir  men,  difiereilt  in  appearance  and  t 
ment  firom  feemsehes,  emerging  from  the  hil"; 
had  taken  ns  for  the  van  of  die  much-dreaded  M:r- 
mons,  whom  they  were  very  appreheusave  rf  eoc <"  an- 
tering.     We  made  known  our  true  character 
then  they  greyed  ns  cordially.     They  exi:       ^ 
much  surprise  that  so  anall  a  party  sbonld  ver:_re 
to  traverse  that  r^on,  though  in  &ct  such  atte~  z  is 
are  not  unfrequently  made  by  toappers  and  Indian 
traders.     We  rode  with  th^m  to  dior  caonp.     The 
wagons,  some  fifty  in  number,  with  here  and  in  ere 
a  tent  intervening,   were  arranged  as  usual   :r    a 
circle  ;  in  the  area  within  the  best  horses  were  pick- 
eted, and  the  wh<4e  drcumfaeilce  was  glowing  v^iih 
the  di:tsky  light  t&  ^le  fires,  <&^]»ring  the  forms  of 


TAKING  FRENCH  LEAVE.  99 

the  women  and  children  who  were  crowded  around 
them.  This  patriarchal  scene  was  curious  and 
striking  enough  ;  but  we  made  our  escape  from  the 
place  with  all  possible  dispatch,  being  tormented  by 
the  intrusive  curiosity  of  the  men,  who  crowded 
around  us.  Yankee  curiosity  was  nothing  to  theirs. 
They  demanded  our  names,  where  we  came  from, 
where  we  were  going,  and  what  was  our  business. 
The  last  quer\-  was  particularly  embarrassing  ;  since 
travelling  in  that  country,  or  indeed  anywhere,  from 
any  other  motive  than  gain,  was  an  idea  of  which 
they  took  no  cognizance.  Yet  they  were  fine-look- 
ing fellows,  with  an  air  of  frankness,  generosity,  and 
even  courtesy,  having  come  from  one  of  the  least 
barbarous  of  the  frontier  counties. 

We  passed  about  a  mile  beyond  them  and  en- 
camped. Being  too  few  in  number  to  stand  guard 
Avithout  excessive  fatigue,  we  extinguished  our  fire, 
lest  it  should  attract  the  notice  of  wandering  Indians  ; 
and  picketing  our  horses  close  around  us,  slept  un- 
disturbed till  morning.  For  three  days  we  travelled 
without  interruption,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  third 
encamped  by  the  well-known  spring  on  Scott's 
Bluff. 

Henr)-  Chatillon  and  I  rode  out  in  the  morning, 
and  descending  the  western  side  of  the  bluff,  were 
crossing  the  plain  beyond.  Something  that  seemed 
to  me  a  file  of  buffalo  came  into  view,  descending 
the  hills  several  miles  before  us.  But  Henr)-  reined 
in  his  horse,  and  keenly  peering  across  the  prairie 
with  a  better  and  more  practised  eye,  soon  discov- 
ered its  real  nature.  "  Indians  !  "  he  said.  "  Old 
Smoke's  lodges,  I  b'heve.  Come  I  let  us  go ! 
Wah  :  get  up,  now,  'Five  Hundred  Dollar!''* 
And  laying  on  the  lash  with  good  will,  he  galloped 
forward,  and  I  rode  by  his  side.  Not  long  after  a 
black  speck  became  visible  on  the  prairie,  full  two 


IX 


lOO  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

miles  oflf.  It  grew  larger  and  larger ;  it  assumed 
the  form  of  a  man  and  horse  ;  and  soon  we  could 
discern  a  naked  Indian,  careering  at  fuU  gallop 
toward  us.  \Mien  within  a  furlong  he  wheeled  his 
horse  in  a  wide  circle,  and  made  him  describe 
\-arious  mystic  figures  upon  the  prairie  ;  and  Henry 
immediately  compelled  • '  Five  Hundred  Dollar ' '  to 
execute  similar  evolutions.  "It  is  .01d._SmpJx^s 
village,"  said  he,  interpreting  these  signals  \."  didn't 
I  say  so  ?' ' 

As  the  Indian  approached  we  stopped  to  wait  for 
him.  when  suddenly  he  vanished,  sinking,  as  it 
were,  into  the  earth.  He  had  come  upon  one  of 
the  deep  raWnes  that  everywhere  intersect  these 
prairies.  In  an  instant  the  rough  head  of  his  horse 
stretched  upward  from  the  edge,  and  the  rider  and 
steed  came  scrambling  out,  and  bounded  up  to  us  ; 
a  sudden  jerk  of  the  rein  brought  the  wild  panting 
horse  to  a  fiiU  stop.  Then  followed  the  needfiil 
formality  of  shaking  hands.  I  forget  our  \-isitor' s 
name.  He  was  a  young  fellow,  of  no  note  in  his 
nation  ;  yet  in  his  i>erson  and  equipments  he  was  a 
good  specimen  of  a  Dahcotah  warrior  in  his  ordinary 
travelling  dress.  Like  most  of  his  people,  he  was 
nearly  sis  feet  high  :  hthely  and  gracefully,  yet 
strongly  proportioned  ;  and  with  a  skin  singularly 
clear  and  dehcate.  He  wore  no  paint ;  his  head  was 
bare  ;  and  his  long  hair  was  gathered  in  a  clump 
behind,  to  the  top  of  which  was  attached  trans- 
versely, both  by  way  of  ornament  and  of  talisman, 
the  mystic  whistle,  made  of  the  «ing-bone  of  the 
war-eagle,  and  endowed  with  various  magic  \"irtues. 
From  the  back  of  his  head  descended  a  line  of 
ghttering  brass  plates,  tapering  from  the  size  of  a 
doubloon  to  that  of  a  half  dime,  a  cumbrous  orna- 
ment, in  high  vogue  among  the  Dahcotahs,  and  for 
which  they  pay  the  traders  a  mo3'©cliavs^nt"price  ; 


TAKING   FREXCH  LEAVE.  lOI 

his  chest  and  arms  were  naked,   the  buffalo-robe 
worn  over  them  when  at  rest    had  fallen  about  his 
waist,  and  was  confined  there  by  a  belt.     This,  with 
the  gay  moccasons  on  his  feet,  completed  his  attire. 
For  arms  he  carried  a  quiver  of  dog-skin  at  his  back, 
and  a   rude   but   powerful   bow   in   his   hand.      His 
horse  had  no  bridle  ;  a  cord  of  hair,  lashed  around 
his  jaw,  served  in  place  of  one.     The  saddle  was  of 
most  singular  construction  ;    it  was  made  of  wood 
covered  with  raw-hide,  and  both  pommel  and  cantle 
rose  perpendicularly  full  eighteen  inches,  so  that  the 
warrior  was  wedged  firmly  in  his  seat,  whence  noth- 
ing could  dislodge  him  but  the  bursting  of  the  girths. 
Advancing   with   our  new   companion,   we  found 
more  of  his  people  seated  in  a  circle  on  the  top  of 
a  hill  ;  while  a  rude  procession  came  straggling  down 
the  neighboring  hollow,  men.  women,  and  children, 
with  horses  dragging  the  lodge-poles  behind  them. 
All  that  morning,  as  we  moved  forward,  tall  savages 
were  stalking  silently  about  us.     At  noon  we  reached 
Horse  Creek  ;  and  as  we  waded  through  the  shallow 
water  we  saw  a  wild  and  striking  scene.      The  main 
body  of  the  Indians  had  arrived  before  us.      On  the 
farther  bank  stood  a  large  and  strong  man,  nearly 
naked,  holding  a  white  horse  by  a  long  cord  and  eye- 
ing us  as  we  approached.     This  was  the  chief,  whom 
Henry  called  "  Qld_^Smoke."     Just  behind  him,  his 
youngest  and  favonte  squaw  sat  astride  of  a  fine 
mule  ;  it  was  covered  with  caparisons  of  whitened 
skins,   garnished  with   blue   and  white  beads,    and 
fringed  with  litde  ornaments  of  metal  that  tinkled 
with  every  movement  of  the  animal.      The  girl  had 
a  light  clear  complexion,  enlivened  by  a  spot  of  ver- 
milion on  each  cheek  ;  she  smiled,  not  to  say  grinned, 
upon  us,  showing  two  gleaming  rows  of  white  teeth. 
In  her  hand  she  carried  the  tall  lance  of  her  unchiv- 
alrous  lord,  fluttering  with  feathers  ;  his  round  white 


I02  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

shield  hung  at  the  side  of  her  mule  :  and  his  pipe 
was  slung  at  her  back.  Her  dress  was  a  tunic  of 
deer-skin,  made  beautifully  white  by  means  of  a 
species  of  clay  found  on  the  prairie,  and  ornamented 
with  beads,  arrayed  in  figures  more  gay  than  taste- 
ful, and  with  long  fringes  at  all  the  seams.  Not  far 
from  the  chief  stood  a  group  of  stately  figures,  their 
white  buttalo-robes  thrown  over  their  shoulders, 
gazing  coldly  upon  us  ;  and  in  the  rear,  for  several 
acres,  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  temporan.-  en- 
campment ;  men,  women,  and  children  swarmed 
like  bees  ;  hundreds  of  dogs,  of  all  sizes  and  colors, 
ran  restlessly  about ;  and  close  at  hand,  the  wide 
shallow  stream  was  alive  with  boys,  girls,  and  young 
squaws,  spl  shing,  screaming,  and  laughing  in  the 
water.  At  the  same  time  a  long  train  of  emigrant 
wagons  were  crossing  the  creek,  and  dragging  on  in 
their  slow,  heavy  procession,  passed  the  encamp- 
ment of  the  people  whom  they  and  their  descend- 
ants, in  the  space  of  a  centur)-,  are  to  sweep  from 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  encampment  itself  was  merely  a  temporary' 
one  during  the  heat  of  the  day.  None  of  the  lodges 
were  erected  ;  but  their  heavy  leather  coverings,  and 
the  long  poles  used  to  support  them,  were  scattered 
evervwhere  around,  among  weapons,  domestic  uten- 
sils, and  the  rude  harness  of  mules  and  horses.  The 
squaws  of  each  lazy  warrior  had  made  him  a  shelter 
fi-om  the  sun  by  stretching  a  few  buft'alo-robes  or 
the  comer  of  a  lodge-covering  upon  poles  ;  and  here 
he  sat  in  the  shade,  with  a  favorite  young  squaw, 
perhaps,  at  his  side,  glittering  \\-ith  all  imaginable 
trinkets.  Before  him  stood  the  insignia  of  his  rank 
as  a  warrior,  his  white  shield  of  bull-hide,  his  medi- 
cine-bag, his  bow  and  quiver,  his  lance  and  his  pipe, 
raised  aloft  on  a  tripod  of  three  poles.  Except  the 
dogs,  the  most  active  and  noisy  tenants  of  the  camp 


TAKING   FRENCH  LEAVE.  IO3 

were  the  old  women,  ugly  as  Macbeth' s  witches, 
with  their  hair  streaming  loose  in  the  wind,  and 
nothing  but  the  tattered  fragment  of  an  old  bufl'alo- 
robe  to  hide  their  shrivelled  wiry  limbs.  The  day 
of  their  favoritism  passed  two  generations  ago  ;  now 
the  heaviest  labors  of  the  camp  devolved  upon  them  ; 
they  were  to  harness  the  horses,  pitch  the  lodges, 
dress  the  buffalo-robes,  and  bring  in  meat  for  the 
hunters.  With  the  cracked  voices  of  these  hags, 
the  clamor  of  dogs,  the  shouting  and  laughing  of 
children  and  girls,  and  the  listless  tranquillity  of  the 
warriors,  the  whole  scene  had  an  effect  too  lively 
and  picturesque  ever  to  be  forgotten. 

We  stopped  not  far  from  the  Indian  camp,  and 
having  invited  some  of  the  chiefs  and  warriors  to 
dinner,  placed  before  them  a  sumptuous  repast  of 
biscuit  and  coffee.  Squatted  in  a  half  circle  on  the 
ground,  they  soon  disposed  of  it.  As  we  rode  for- 
ward on  the  afternoon  journey,  several  of  our  late 
guests  accompanied  us.  Among  the  rest  was  a 
huge  bloated  savage,  of  more  than  three  hundred 
pounds'  weight,  christened  Zt'  Cochon,  in  considera- 
tion of  his  preposterous  dimensions,  and  certain 
corresponding  traits  of  his  character.  ' '  The  Hog 
bestrode  a  little  white  pony,  scarce  able  to  bear  up 
under  the  enormous  burden,  though,  by  way  of 
keeping  up  the  necessary  stimulus,  the  rider  kept 
both  feet  in  constant  motion,  playing  alternately 
against  his  ribs.  The  old  man  was  not  a  chief ;  he 
never  had  ambition  enough  to  become  one  ;  he  was 
not  a  warrior  nor  a  hunter,  for  he  was  too  fat  and 
lazy  ;  but  he  was  the  richest  man  in  the  whole  vil- 
lage. Riches  among  the  Dahcotahs  consist  in 
horses,  and  of  these  "  The  Hog"  had  accumulated 
more  than  thirty.  He  had  already  ten  times  as 
many  as  he  wanted,  yet  still  his  appetite  for  horses 
was  insatiable.     Trotting  up  to  me,  he  shook  me  by 


IQ4  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

the  hand,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  he  was  a 
ven-  devoted  friend  ;  and  then  he  began  a  series  of 
most  earnest  signs  and  gesticulations,  his  oily  coun- 
tenance radiant  with  smiles,  and  his  httle  eyes  {>eep> 
ing  oxit  with  a  cunning  twinkle  fit>m  between  the 
masses  of  flesh  that  almost  obscured  them.  Know- 
ing nothing  at  that  time  of  the  sign-language  of  the 
Indians,  I  could  only  guess  at  his  meaning.  So  1 
called  on  Henry  to  explain  it. 

'  ■  The  Hog, " '  it  seems,  was  anxious  to  conclude  a 
matrimonial  bargain.  "He  said  he  had  a  verj-  prett>' 
daughter  in  his  lodge,  whom  he  would  give  me.  if 
I  would  ^ive  him  my  horse.  These  flattering  over- 
tures I  chose  to  reject ;  at  which  "The  Hog."  still 
laughing  with  undiminished  good  humor,  gathered 
his  robe  about  his  shoulders  and  rode  away. 

\Miere  we  encam|)ed  that  night  an  arm  of  the 
Platte  ran  between  high  bluffs ;  it  was  turbid  and 
swift  as  heretofore,  but  trees  were  growing  on  its 
crumbling  banks,  and  there  was  a  nook  of  grass 
between  the  water  and  the  hill.  Just  before  enter- 
ing this  place  we  saw  the  emigrants  encamping  at 
two  or  three  miles'  distance  on  the  right ;  while  the 
whole  Indian  rabble  were  pouring  down  the  neigh- 
boring hiU  in  hope  of  the  same  sort  of  entertain- 
ment which  they  had  experienced  from  us.  In  the 
sa\Tige  landscape  before  oiu-  camp  nothing  but  the 
rushing  of  the  Platte  broke  the  alence.  Through 
the  ragged  boughs  of  the  trees,  dilapidated  and  half 
dead,  we  saw  the  sun  setting  in  crimson  behind  the 
peaks  of  the  Black  HUls  ;  the  restless  bosom  of  the 
river  was  suffused  with  red ;  our  white  tent  was 
tinged  with  it,  and  the  sterile  bluffs,  up  to  the  rocks 
that  cro^med  them,  partook  of  the  same  fiery  hue. 
It  soon  passed  away  :  no  Ught  remained  but  that 
from  our  fire,  blazing  high  among  the  dusky  trees 
and   bushes.     We   lay  around   it  wrapped  in  our 


TAKING   FRENCH  LEA  VE.  I05 

blankets,  smoking  and  conversing  until  a  late  hour, 
and  then  withdrew  to  our  tent. 

We  crossed  a  sun-scorched  plain  on  the  next 
morning,  the  line  of  old  cotton-wood  trees  that 
fringed  the  bank  of  the  Platte  forming  its  extreme 
verge.  Nestled  apparently  close  beneath  them,  we 
could  discern  in  the  distance  something  like  a  build- 
ing. As  we  came  nearer,  it  assumed  form  and  di- 
mensions, and  proved  to  be  a  rough  structure  of 
logs.  It  was  a  little  trading  fort,  belonging  to  two 
private  traders  ;  and  originally  intended,  like  all  the 
forts  of  the  country,  to  forni  a  hollow  square,  with 
rooms  for  lodging  and  storage  opening  upon  the 
area  within.  Only  two  sides  of  it  had  been  com- 
pleted ;  the  place  was  now  as  ill-fitted  for  the  pur- 
poses of  defence  as  any  of  those  little  log-houses 
which  upon  our  constantly-shifting  frontier  have 
been  so  often  successfully  maintained  against  over- 
whelming odds  of  Indians.  Two  lodges  were 
pitched  close  to  the  fort ;  the  sun  beat  scorching 
upon  the  logs  ;  no  living  thing  was  stirring  except 
one  old  squaw,  who  thrust  her  round  head  from  the 
opening  of  the  nearest  lodge,  and  three  or  four 
stout  young  pups,  who  were  peeping  with  looks  of 
eager  inquiry  from  under  the  covering.  In  a 
moment  a  door  opened,  and  a  little  swarthy,  black- 
eyed  Frenchman  came  out.  His  dress  was  rather 
singular  ;  his  black  curling  hair  was  parted  in  the 
middle  of  his  head,  and  fell  below  his  shoulders  ; 
he  wore  a  tight  frock  of  smoked  deer-skin,  very 
gayly  ornamented  with  figures  worked  in  dyed  por- 
cupine-quills. His  moccasons  and  leggings  were 
also  gaudily  adorned  in  the  same  manner  ;  and  the 
latter  had  in  addition  a  line  of  long  fringes,  reach- 
ing down  the  seams.  The  small  frame  of  Richard, 
for  by  this  name  Henry  made  him  known  to  us, 
was  in  the  highest   degree   athletic  and   vigorous. 


I06  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

There  was  no  superfluity,  and  indeed  there  seldom 
is  among  the  active  white  men  of  this  countr)-,  but 
ever)-  hmb  was  compact  and  hard  ;  ever)-  sinew  had 
its  full  tone  and  elasticity,  and  the  whole  man  wore 
an  air  of  mingled  hardihood  and  buoyancy. 

Richard  committed  our  horses  to  a  N'avaho  slave, 
a  mean-looking  fellow,  taken  prisoner  on  the  Mexi- 
can frontier ;  and  relieving  us  of  our  rifles  with 
ready  politeness,  led  the  way  into  the  principal 
apartment  of  his  establishment.  This  was  a  room 
ten  feet  square.  The  walls  and  floor  were  of  black 
mud,  and  the  roof  of  rough  timber  ;  there  was  a 
huge  fireplace  made  of  four  flat  rocks,  picked  up  on 
the  prairie.  An  Indian  bow  and  otter-skin  quiver, 
several  gaudy  articles  of  Rocky  Mountain  finer)^ 
an  Indian  medicine-bag,  and  a  pipe  and  tobacco- 
pouch  garnished  the  walls,  and  rifles  rested  in  a 
comer.  There  was  no  furniture  except  a  sort  of 
rough  settle,  covered  wvCa.  buffalo-robes,  upon  which 
lolled  a  tall  half-breed,  with  his  hair  glued  in  masses 
upon  each  temple,  and  saturated  with  vermilion. 
Two  or  three  more  ' '  mountain  men ' '  sat  cross- 
legged  on  the  floor.  Their  attire  was  not  unlike 
that  of  Richard  himself;  but  the  most  striking 
figure  of  the  group  was  a  naked  Indian  boy  of  six- 
teen, with  a  handsome  face,  and  fight,  active  pro- 
portions, who  sat  in  an  easy  posture  in  the  comer 
near  the  door.  Not  one  of  his  limbs  moved  the 
breadth  of  a  hair  ;  his  eye  was  fixed  immovably, 
not  on  any  person  present,  but,  as  it  appeared,  on 
the  projecting  comer  of  the  fireplace  opposite  to 
him. 

On  these  prairies  the  custom  of  smoking  with 
friends  is  seldom  omitted,  whether  among  Indians 
or  whites.  The  pipe,  therefore,  was  taken  from 
the  wall,  and  its  great  red  bowl  crammed  with  the 
tobacco    and   shongsasha,    mixed    in    suitable   pro- 


TAKIXG   FREXCH  LEAVE.  10/ 

portions.  Then  it  passed  round  the  circle,  each 
man  inhahng  a  few  whites  and  handing  it  to  his 
neighbor.  Having  spent  half  an  hour  here,  we 
took  our  leave  ;  first  inviting  our  new  friends  to 
drink  a  cup  of  cofifee  with  us  at  our  camp  a  mile 
farther  up  the  river. 

By  this  time,  as  the  reader  may  conceive,  we  had 
grown  rather  shabby  ;  our  clodies  had  burst  into 
rags  and  tatters  :  and  what  was  worse,  we  had  ver\- 
little  means  of  renovation.  Fort  Laram.ie  was  but 
seven  miles  before  us.  Being  totally  averse  to  ap- 
pearing in  such  a  plight  among  any  society  that 
could  boast  an  appro.ximation  to  the  civilized,  we 
soon  stopped  by  the  ri\  er  to  make  our  toilet  in  the 
best  way  we  could.  We  hung  up  small  looking- 
glasses  against  the  trees  and  shaved,  an  operation 
neglected  for  six  weeks  ;  we  performed  our  ablutions 
in  the  Platte,  though  the  utility-  of  such  a  proceeding 
was  questionable,  the  water  looking  exactly  like  a 
cup  of  chocolate,  and  the  banks  consisting  of  the 
softest  and  richest  yellow  mud,  so  that  we  were 
obliged,  as  a  preliminary,  to  build  a  causeway  of 
stout  branches  and  tvngs.  Having  also  put  on 
radiant  moccasons,  procured  from  a  squaw  of 
Richard's  establishment,  and  made  what  other  im- 
provements our  narrow  circumstances  allowed,  we 
took  our  seats  on  the  grass  with  a  feeling  of  greatly 
increased  respectability-,  to  await  the  arrival  of  our 
guests.  They  came  ;  the  banquet  was  concluded, 
and  the  pipe  smoked.  Bidding  them  adieu,  we 
turned  our  horses'  heads  toward  the  fort. 

An  hour  elapsed.  The  barren  hills  closed  across 
our  front,  and  we  could  see  no  farther,  until  having 
surmounted  them ;  a  rapid  stream  appeared  at  the 
foot  of  the  descent,  running  into  the  Platte  ;  beyond 
was  a  green  meadow,  dotted  «-ith  bushes,  and  in 
the  midst  of  these,  at  the  point  where  the  two  rivers 


I08  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

joined,  were  the  low  clay  walls  of  a  fort.  This 
was  not  Fort  Laramie,  but  another  post  of  less 
recent  date,  which  having  sunk  before  its  successful 
competitor,  was  now  deserted  and  ruinous.  A 
moiTient  after,  the  hills  seeming  to  draw  apart  as  we 
advanced,  disclosed  Fort  Laramie  itself,  its  high 
bastions  and  perpendicular  walls  of  clay  crowning 
an  eminence  on  the  left  beyond  the  stream,  while 
behind  stretched  a  line  of  arid  and  desolate  ridges, 
and  behind  these  again,  towering  aloft  seven  thou- 
sand feet,  arose  the  grim  Black  Hills. 

We  tried  to  ford  Laramie  Creek  at  a  point  nearly 
opposite  the  fort,  but  the  stream,  swollen  with  the 
rains  in  the  mountains,  was  too  rapid.  We  passed 
up  along  its  bank  to  find  a  better  crossing  place. 
Men  gathered  on  the  wall  to  look  at  us.  "  There's 
Bordeaux  !"  called  Henry,  his  face  brightening  as 
he  recognized  his  acquaintance  ;  ' '  him  there  with 
the  spy -glass  ;  and  there's  old  Vaskiss,  and  Tucker, 
and  May;  and,  by  George!  there's  Cimoneau  I" 
This  Cimoneau  was  Henrj^'s  fast  friend,  and  the 
only  man  in  the  countrj'  who  could  rival  him  in 
hunting. 

We  soon  found  a  ford.  Henr)-  led  the  way,  the 
pony  approaching  the  bank  with  a  countenance  of 
cool  indifference,  bracing  his  feet  and  sliding  into 
the  stream  with  the  most  unmoved  composure  : 

"At  the  first  plunge  the  horse  sunk  low, 
And  the  water  broke  o'er  the  saddle-bow." 

We  followed  ;  the  water  boiled  against  our  sad- 
dles, but  our  horses  bore  us  easily  through.  The 
unfortunate  little  mules  came  near  going  down  with 
the  current,  cart  and  all  ;  and  we  watched  them 
with  some  solicitude  scrambling  over  the  loose 
round  stones  at  the  bottom,  and  bracing  stoutly 
against  the  stream.     All  landed  safely  at  last  ;  we 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         I09 

crossed  a  little  plain,  descended  a  hollow,  and 
riding  up  a  steep  bank,  found  ourselves  before  the 
gateway  of  Fort  Laramie,  under  the  impending 
blockhouse  erected  above  it  to  defend  the  entrance. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

SCENES    AT    FORT    LARAMIE. 

"  'Tis  true  they  are  a  lawless  brood, 

But  rough  in  form,  nor  mild  in  mood." 

The  Bride  ok  Abydos. 

Looking  back,  after  the  expiration  of  a  year, 
upon  Fort  Laramie  and  its  inmates,  they  seem  less 
like  a  reality  than  like  some  fanciful  picture  of  the 
olden  time  ;  so  different  was  the  scene  from  any 
which  this  tamer  side  of  the  world  can  present. 
Tall  Indians,  enveloped  in  their  white  buffalo-robes, 
were  striding  across  the  area  or  reclining  at  full 
length  on  the  low  roofs  of  the  buildings  which  in- 
closed it.  Numerous  squaws,  gayly  bedizened,  sat 
grouped  in  front  of  the  apartments  they  occupied  ; 
their  mongrel  offspring,  restless  and  vociferous, 
rambled  in  every  direction  through  the  fort  ;  and 
the  trappers,  traders,  and  ejigages  of  the  establish- 
ment were  busy  at  their  labor  or  their  amusements. 

We  were  met  at  the  gate,  but  by  no  means  cor- 
dially welcomed.  Indeed,  we  seemed  objects  of 
some  distrust  and  suspicion,  until  Henry  Chatillon 
explained  that  we  were  not  traders,  and  we,  in  con- 
firmation, handed  to  the  bourgeois  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  his  principals.  He  took  it,  turned  it 
upside  down,  and  tried  hard  to  read  it  ;  but  his 
literary  attainments  not  being  adequate  to  the  task, 
he  applied  for  relief  to  the  clerk,  a  sleek,  smiling 


no  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Frenchman,  named  Montalon.  The  letter  read, 
Bordeaux  (the  bourgeois)  seemed  gradually  to 
awaken  to  a  sense  of  what  was  expected  of  him. 
Though  not  deficient  in  hospitable  intentions,  he 
was  wholly  unaccustomed  to  act  as  master  of  cere- 
monies. Discarding  all  formalities  of  reception,  he 
did  not  honor  us  with  a  single  word,  but  walked 
swiftly  across  the  area,  while  we  followed  in  some 
admiration  to  a  jailing  and  a  flight  of  steps  opposite 
the  entrance.  He  signed  to  us  that  we  had  better 
fasten  our  horses  to  the  railing  ;  then  he  walked  up 
the  steps,  tramped  along  a  rude  balcony,  and  kick- 
ing open  a  door,  displayed  a  large  room,  rather 
more  elaborately  finished  than  a  bam.  For  furni- 
ture it  had  a  rough  bedstead,  but  no  bed  ;  two 
chairs,  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  tin  pail  to  hold  water, 
and  a  board  to  cut  tobacco  upon.  A  brass  crucifi^x 
hung  on  the  wall,  and  close  at  hand  a  recent  scalp, 
with  hair  full  a  yard  long,  was  suspended  from  a 
nail.  I  shall  again  have  occasion  to  mention  this 
dismal  trophy,  its  history  being  connected  with  that 
of  our  subsequent  proceedings. 

This  apartment,  the  best  iii  Fort  Laramie,  was 
that  usually  occupied  by  the  legitimate  bourgeois, 
Papin  ;  in  whose  absence  the  command  devolved 
upon  Bordeaux.  The  latter,  a  stout,  bluff  little  fel- 
low, much  inflated  by  a  sense  of  his  new  authority, 
began  to  roar  for  buffalo-robes.  These  being 
brought  and  spread  upon  the  floor  formed  our 
beds  ;  much  better  ones  than  we  had  of  late  been 
accustomed  to.  Our  arrangements  made,  we  stepped 
out  to  the  balcony  to  take  a  more  leisurely  survey 
of  the  long-looked-for  haven  at  which  we  had  ar- 
rived at  last.  Beneath  us  was  the  square  area  sur- 
rounded by  little  rooms,  or  rather  cells,  which 
opened  upon  it.  These  were  devoted  to  various 
purposes,  but  served  chiefly  for  the  accommodation 


SC£X£S  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         Ill 

of  the  men  employed  at  the  fort,  or  of  the  equally 
numerous  squaws  whom  they  were  allowed  to  main- 
tain in  it.  Opposite  to  us  rose  the  blockhouse  above 
the  gateway  ;  it  was  adorned  with  a  figure  which 
even  now  haunts  my  memor\-  ;  a  horse  at  full  speed, 
daubed  upon  the  boards  with  red  paint,  and  exhib- 
iting a  degree  of  skill  that  might  rival  that  displayed 
by  the  Indians  in  executing  similar  designs  upon 
tneir  robes  and  lodges.  A  busy  scene  was  enacting 
in  the  area.  The  wagons  of  \'askiss,  an  old  trader, 
•were  about  to  set  out  for  a  remote  post  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  Canadians  were  going  through  their 
preparations  with  all  possible  busde.  while  here  and 
there  an  Indian  stood  looking  on  with  imperturbable 
gravity. 

Fort  Laramie  is  one  of  the  posts  established  by 
the  ' '  American  Fur  Company,"  who  well-nigh 
niohopohze  the  Indian  trade  of  this  whole  region. 
Here  their  officials  rule  with  an  absolute  sway  ;  the 
arm  of  the  United  States  has  little  force  ;  for  when 
we  were  there,  the  extreme  outposts  of  her  troops 
were  about  seven  hundred  miles  to  the  eastward. 
The  little  fort  is  built  of  bricks  dried  in  the  sun,  and 
externally  is  of  an  oblong  form,  with  bastions  of 
clay,  in  the  form  of  ordinan.^  blockhouses,  at  two  of 
the  comers.  The  walls  are  about  fifteen  feet  high, 
and  surmounted  by  a  slender  palisade.  The  roofs 
of  the  apartments  within,  which  are  built  close 
against  the  walls,  serve  the  purpose  of  a  banquette. 
Within,  the  fort  is  divided  by  a  partition  ;  on  one 
side  is  the  square  area,  surrounded  by  the  store- 
rooms, offices,  and  apartments  of  the  inmates  ;  on 
the  other  is  the  corral,  a  narrow  place,  encompassed 
by  the  high  clay  walls,  where  at  night,  or  in  pres- 
ence of  dangerous  Indians,  the  horses  and  mules  of 
the  fort  are  crowded  for  safe  keeping.  The  main 
entrance    has   two   gates,  with    an    arched  passage 


112  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

inter\-ening.  A  little  square  ^\-indow,  quite  high 
above  the  ground,  opens  laterally  from  an  adjoining 
chamber  into  this  passage  ;  so  that  when  the  inner 
gate  is  closed  and  barred,  a  person  without  may 
still  hold  communication  %\ith  those  within,  through 
this  narrow  aperture.  This  obviates  the  neces£it>' 
of  admitting  suspicious  Indians,  for  purposes  of 
trading,  into  the  body  of  the  fort  ;  for  when  danger 
is  apprehended  the  inner  gate  is  shut  fast,  and  all 
traffic  is  carried  on  by  means  of  the  little  window. 
This  precaution,  though  highly  necessan,-  at  some 
of  the  company's  posts,  is  now  seldom  resorted  to 
at  Fort  Laramie  ;  where,  though  men  are  frequently 
killed  in  its  neighborhood,  no  apprehensions  are 
now  entertained  of  any  general  designs  of  hostility 
from  the  Indians. 

We  did  not  long  enjoy  our  new  quarters  undis- 
turbed. The  door  was  silently  pushed  open,  and 
two  eyeballs  and  a  visage  as  black  as  night  looked 
in  upon  us  ;  then  a  red  arm  and  shoulder  intruded 
themselves,  and  a  tall  Indian,  ghding  in,  shook  us 
by  the  hand,  grunted  his  salutation,  and  sat  down 
on  the  floor.  Others  followed,  with  faces  of  the 
natural  hue  ;  and  letting  fall  their  heavy  robes  from 
their  shoulders,  they  took  their  seats,  quite  at  ease, 
in  a  semicircle  before  us.  The  pipe  was  now  to  be 
lighted  and  passed  round  from  one  to  another  ;  and 
this  was  the  only  entertainment  that  at  present 
they  expected  from  us.  These  visitors  were  fathers, 
brothers,  or  other  relatives  of  the  squaws  in  the 
fort,  where  they  were  permitted  to  remain,  loitering 
about  in  perfect  idleness.  All  those  who  smoked 
with  us  were  men  of  standing  and  repute.  Two  or 
three  others  dropped  in  also  ;  young  fellows  who 
neither  by  their  years  nor  their  exploits  were  en- 
titled to  rank  with  the  old  men  and  warriors,  and 
who,   abashed  in  the  presence  of  their  superiors, 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         II3 

stood  aloof,  never  withdrawing  their  eyes  from  us. 
Their  cheeks  were  adorned  with  vermiHon,  their 
ears  with  pendants  of  shell,  and  their  necks  with 
beads.  Never  yet  having  signalized  themselves  as 
hunters,  or  performed  the  honorable  exploit  of  kill- 
ing a  man,  they  were  held  in  slight  esteem,  and 
were  diffident  and  bashful  in  proportion.  Certain 
formidable  inconveniences  attended  this  influx  of 
visitors.  They  were  bent  on  inspecting  everything 
in  the  room  ;  our  equipments  and  our  dress  alike 
underwent  their  scrutiny  ;  for  though  the  contrary 
has  been  carelessly  asserted,  few  beings  have  more 
curiosity  than  Indians  in  regard  to  subjects  within 
their  ordinary  range  of  thought.  As  to  other  mat- 
ters, indeed,  they  seem  utterly  indifferent.  They 
will  not  trouble  themselves  to  inquire  into  what 
they  cannot  comprehend,  but  are  quite  contented  to 
place  their  hands  over  their  mouths  in  token  of 
wonder,  and  exclaim  that  it  is  "  great  medicine." 
With  this  comprehensive  solution,  an  Indian  never 
is  at  a  loss.  He  never  launches  forth  into  specula- 
tion and  conjecture  ;  his  reason  moves  in  its  beaten 
track.  His  soul  is  dormant ;  and  no  exertions  of 
the  missionaries,  Jesuit  or  Puritan,  of  the  Old  World 
or  of  the  New,  have  as  yet  availed  to  rouse  it. 

As  we  were  looking,  at  sunset,  from  the  wall, 
upon  the  wild  and  desolate  plains  that  surround  the 
fort,  we  observed  a  cluster  of  strange  objects,  like 
scaffolds,  rising  in  the  distance  against  the  red 
western  sky.  They  bore  aloft  some  singular-looking 
burdens  ;  and  at  their  foot  glimmered  something 
white,  like  bones.  This  was  the  place  of  sepulture 
of  some  Dahcotah  chiefs,  whose  remains  their 
people  are  fond  of  placing  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
fort,  in  the  hope  that  they  may  thus  be  protected 
from  violation  at  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  Yet 
it  has  happened  more  than  once,  and  quite  recently, 


114  ^-^-^    OREGON  TRAIL. 

that  war-parties  of  the  Crow  Indians,  ranging 
through  the  countn,-,  have  thrown  the  bodies  from 
the  scaffolds,  and  broken  them  to  pieces,  amid  the 
yells  of  the  Dahcotahs,  who  remained  pent  up  in 
the  fort,  too  few  to  defend  the  honored  reUcs  from  in- 
sult. The  white  objects  upon  the  ground  were  buffalo 
skulls,  arranged  in  the  mystic  circle  commonly 
seen  at  Indian  places  of  sepulture  upon  the  prairie. 

We  soon  discovered,  in  the  twilight,  a  band  of 
fifty  or  sixt}-  horses  approaching  the  fort.  These 
were  the  animals  belonging  to  the  establishment ; 
who  having  been  sent  out  to  feed,  under  the  care  of 
armed  guards,  in  the  meadows  below,  were  now 
being  driven  into  the  corral  for  the  night.  A  little 
gate  opened  into  this  inclosure  :  by  the  side  of  it 
stood  one  of  the  guards,  an  old  Canadian,  with  gray 
bushy  eyebrows,  and  a  dragoon-pistol  stuck  into  his 
belt  ;  while  his  comrade,  mounted  on  horseback, 
his  rifle  laid  across  the  saddle  in  front  of  him,  and 
his  long  hair  blo\\-ing  before  his  swarthy  face,  rode 
at  the  rear  of  the  disorderly  troop,  urging  them  up 
the  ascent.  In  a  moment  the  narrow  corral  was 
thronged  with  the  half-wild  horses,  kicking,  biting, 
and  crowding  restlessly  together. 

The  discordant  jingHng  of  a  bell,  rung  by  a 
Canadian  in  the  area,  summoned  us  to  supper. 
This  sumptuous  repast  was  served  on  a  rough  table 
in  one  of  the  lower  apartments  of  the  fort,  and  con- 
sisted of  cakes  of  bread  and  dried  buffalo-meat — an 
excellent  thing  for  strengthening  the  teeth.  At  this 
meal  were  seated  the  bourgeois  and  superior  digni- 
taries of  the  estabhshment,  among  whom  Henry 
Chatillon  was  worthily  included.  No  sooner  was  it 
finished  than  the  table  was  spread  a  second  time 
(the  luxur\-  of  bread  being  now,  however,  omitted) 
for  the  benefit  of  certain  hunters  and  trappers  of  an 
inferior    standing ;    while    the    ordinar)-   Canadian 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         II5 

engages  were  regaled  on  dried  meat  in  one  of  their 
lodging  rooms.  By  way  of  illustrating  the  domestic 
economy  of  Fort  Laramie,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to 
introduce  in  this  place  a  story  current  among  the 
men  when  we  were  there. 

There  was  an  old  man  named  Pierre,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  bring  the  meat  from  the  store-room  for  the 
men.  Old  Pierre,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  used 
to  select  the  fattest  and  the  best  pieces  for  his  com- 
panions. This  did  not  long  escape  the  keen-eyed 
bourgeois,  who  was  greatly  disturbed  at  such  im- 
providence, and  cast  about  for  some  means  to  stop 
it.  At  last  he  hit  on  a  plan  that  exactly  suited  him. 
At  the  side  of  the  meat-room,  and  separated  from 
it  by  a  clay  partition,  was  another  apartment,  used 
for  the  storage  of  furs.  It  had  no  other  communi- 
cation with  the  fort  except  through  a  square  hole  in 
the  partition,  and  of  course  it  was  perfectly  dark. 
One  evening  the  bourgeois,  watching  for  a  moment 
when  no  one  observed  him,  dodged  into  the  meat- 
room,  clambered  through  the  hole,  and  ensconced 
himself  among  the  furs  and  buffalo-robes.  Soon 
after  old  Pierre  came  in  with  his  lantern  ;  and, 
muttering  to  himself,  began  to  pull  over  the  bales 
of  meat,  and  select  the  best  pieces,  as  usual.  Ikit 
suddenly  a  hollow  and  sepulchral  voice  proceeded 
from  the  inner  apartment  :  "  Pierre  I  Pierre  !  Let 
that  fat  meat  alone!  Take  nothing  but  lean!" 
Pierre  dropped  his  lantern,  and  bolted  out  into  the 
fort,  screaming,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  that  the  devil 
was  in  the  store-room  ;  but  tripping  on  the  thresh- 
old, he  pitched  over  upon  the  gravel,  and  lay  sense- 
less, stunned  by  the  fall.  The  Canadians  ran  out 
to  the  rescue.  Some  lifted  the  unlucky  Pierre  ;  and 
others,  making  an  extempore  crucifix  out  of  two 
sticks,  were  proceeding  to  attack  the  devil  in  his 
stronghold,   when  the  bourgeois,  with  a  crestfallen 


Il6  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

countenance,  appeared  at  the  door.  To  add  to  the 
bourgeois  s  mortification,  he  was  obliged  to  explain 
the  whole  stratagem  to  Pierre  in  order  to  bring  the 
latter  to  his  senses. 

We  were  sitting,  on  the  following  morning,  in  the 
passageway  betAveen  the  gates,  conversing  with  the 
traders  \'askiss  and  May.  These  t^vo  men,  together 
with  our  sleek  friend,  the  clerk  Montalon,  were,  I 
believe,  the  only  persons  then  in  the  fort  who  could 
read  and  write.  May  was  telling  a  curious  stor)' 
about  the  traveller  Catlin.  when  an  ugly,  diminu- 
tive Indian,  wTetchedly  mounted,  came  up  at  a 
gallop,  and  rode  past  us  into  the  fort.  On  being 
questioned,  he  said  that  Smoke"  s  village  was  close 
at  hand.  Accordingly  only  a  few  minutes  elapsed 
before  the  hills  beyond  the  river  were  covered  with 
a  disorderly  swarm  of  savages,  on  horseback  and 
on  foot.  May  finished  his  ston."  ;  and  by  that  time 
the  whole  array  had  descended  to  Laramie  Creek, 
and  commenced  crossing  it  in  a  mass.  I  walked 
down  to  the  bank.  The  stream  is  wide,  and  was 
then  bet\veen  three  and  four  feet  deep,  with  a  verj- 
swift  current.  For  several  rods  the  water  was  alive 
with  dogs,  horses,  and  Indians.  The  long  poles 
used  in  erecting  the  lodges  are  carried  by  the  horses, 
being  fastened  by  the  heavier  end,  rvvo  or  three  on 
each  side,  to  a  rude  sort  of  pack-saddle,  while  the 
ether  end  drags  on  the  ground.  About  a  foot 
behind  the  horse  a  kind  of  large  basket  or  pannier 
is  suspended  between  the  poles,  and  firmly  lashed 
in  its  place.  On  the  back  of  the  horse  are  piled 
various  articles  of  luggage  ;  the  basket  also  is  well 
filled  with  domestic  utensils,  or,  quite  as  often,  with 
a  litter  of  puppies,  a  brood  of  small  children,  or  a 
superannuated  old  man.  Numbers  of  these  curious 
vehicles,  called,  in  the  bastard  language  of  the 
country,    travaux,    were    now    splashing    together 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         WJ 

through  the  stream.  Among  them  swam  countless 
dogs,  often  burdened  with  miniature  travail x  ;  and 
dashing  forward  on  horseback  through  the  throng 
came  the  superbly  formed  warriors,  the  slender 
figure  of  some  lynx-eyed  boy  clinging  fast  behind 
them.  The  women  sat  perched  on  the  pack-saddles, 
adding  not  a  little  to  the  load  of  the  already  over- 
burdened horses.  The  confusion  was  prodigious. 
The  dogs  yelled  and  howled  in  chorus  ;  the  puppies 
in  the  travaiix  set  up  a  dismal  whine  as  the  water 
invaded  their  comfortable  retreat  ;  the  little  black- 
eyed  children,  from  one  year  of  age  upward,  clung 
fast  with  both  hands  to  the  edge  of  their  basket,  and 
looked  over  in  alarm  at  the  \\ater  rushing  so  near 
them,  sputtering  and  making  wry  mouths  as  it 
splashed  against  their  faces.  Some  of  the  dogs, 
encumbered  by  their  load,  were  carried  down  by  the 
current,  yelping  piteously  ;  and  the  old  squaws 
would  rush  into  the  water,  seize  their  favorites  by 
the  neck  and  drag  them  out.  As  each  horse  gained 
the  bank  he  scrambled  up  as  he  could.  Stray 
horses  and  colts  came  among  the  rest,  often  break- 
ing away  at  full  speed  through  the  crowd,  followed 
by  the  old  hags,  screaming,  after  their  fashion,  on 
all  occasions  of  excitement.  Buxom  young  squaws, 
blooming  in  all  the  charms  of  vermilion,  stood  here 
and  there  on  the  bank,  holding  aloft  their  master's 
lance  as  a  signal  to  collect  the  scattered  portions  of 
his  household.  In  a  few  moments  the  crowd  melted 
away  ;  each  family,  with  its  horses  and  equipage, 
filing  off  to  the  plain  at  the  rear  of  the  fort  ;  and 
here,  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  arose  sixty  or 
seventy  of  their  tapering  lodges.  Their  horses  were 
feeding  by  hundreds  over  the  surrounding  prairie, 
and  their  dogs  were  roaming  everywhere.  The  fort 
was  full  of  men,  and  the  children  were  whooping 
and  yelling  incessantly  under  the  walls. 


Il8  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

These  new-comers  were  scarcely  arrived,  when 
Bordeaux  was  running  across  the  fort,  shouting  to 
his  squaw  to  bring  him  his  spy-glass.  The  obedient 
Marie,  the  ver)-  model  of  a  squaw,  produced  the 
instrument,  and  Bordeaux  hurried  with  it  up  to  the 
wall.  Pointing  it  to  the  eastward,  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  oath,  that  the  families  were  coming.  But  a 
few  moments  elapsed  before  the  heavy  caravan  of 
the  emigrant  wagons  could  be  seen,  steadily  ad- 
vancing from  the  hills.  They  gained  the  river,  and 
without  turning  or  pausing  plunged  in  ;  they  passed 
through,  and  slowly  ascending  the  opposing  bank, 
kept  directly  on  their  way  past  the  fort  and  the 
Indian  \-iUage,  until,  gaining  a  spot  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant,  they  wheeled  into  a  circle.  For  some 
time  our  tranquillity,"  was  undisturbed.  The  emi- 
grants were  preparing  their  encampment ;  but  no 
sooner  was  this  accomplished,  than  Fort  Laramie 
was  fairly  taken  by  storm.  A  crowd  of  broad- 
brimmed  hats,  thin  %-isages,  and  staring  eyes  ap- 
peared suddenly  at  the  gate.  Tall,  awkward  men, 
in  brown  homespun  ;  women  with  cadaverous  faces 
and  long  lank  figures,  came  thronging  in  together, 
and,  as  if  inspired  by  the  very  demon  of  curiosity", 
ransacked  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  fort.  Dis- 
mayed at  this  invasion,  we  withdrew  in  all  speed  to 
our  chamber,  vainly  hoping  that  it  might  prove 
an  in\iolable  sanctuar>\  The  emigrants  prosecuted 
their  investigations  with  untiring  vigor.  They  pene- 
trated the  rooms,  or  rather  dens,  inhabited  by  the 
astonished  squaws.  They  explored  the  apartments 
of  the  men,  and  even  that  of  Marie  and  the  bour- 
geois. At  last  a  numerous  deputation  appeared  at 
our  door,  but  were  immediately  expelled.  Being 
totally  devoid  of  any  sense  of  delicacy  or  propriety, 
they  seemed  resolved  to  search  every  myster)^  to  the 
bottom. 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         I  I9 

Having  at  length  satisfied  their  curiosity,  they 
next  proceeded  to  business.  The  men  occupied 
themselves  in  procuring  supplies  for  their  onward 
journey  ;  either  buying  them  with  money  or  giving 
in  exchange  superfluous  articles  of  their  own. 

The  emigrants  felt  a  violent  prejudice  against  the 
/  Erench  Indians,  as  they  called  the  trappers  and 
traders.  They  thought,  and  with  some  justice,  that 
these  men  bore  them  no  good  will.  Many  of  them 
were  firmly  persuaded  that  the  French  were  insti- 
gating the  Indians  to  attack  and  cut  them  off.  On 
visiting  the  encampment  we  were  at  once  struck 
with  the  extraordinary  perplexity  and  indecision  that 
prevailed  among  the  emigrants.  They  seemed  like 
men  totally  out  of  their  element  ;  bewildered  and 
amazed,  like  a  troop  of  school-boys  lost  in  the 
woods.  It  was  impossible  to  be  long  among  them 
without  being  conscious  of  the  high  and  bold  spirit 
with  which  most  of  them  were  animated.  But  the 
forest  is  the  home  of  the  backwoodsman.  On  the 
remote  prairie  he  is  totally  at  a  loss.  He  differs  as 
much  from  the  genuine  "  mountain  man,"  the  wild 
prairie  hunter,  as  a  Canadian  voyageur,  paddling 
his  canoe  on  the  rapids  of  the  Ottawa,  differs  from 
an  American  sailor  among  the  storms  of  Cape  Horn. 
Still  my  companion  and  I  were  somewhat  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  this  perturbed  state  of  mind.  It  could 
not  be  cowardice  :  these  men  were  of  the  same  stock 
with  the  volunteers  of  Monterey  and  Buena  Vista. 
Yet,  for  the  most  part,  they  were  the  rudest  and 
most  ignorant  of  the  frontier  population  ;  they  knew 
absolutely  nothing  of  the  country  and  its  inhabitants  ; 
they  had  already  experienced  much  misfortune  and 
apprehended  more  ;  they  had  seen  nothing  of  man- 
kind, and  had  never  put  their  own  resources  to  the 
test. 

A  full  proportion  of  suspicion  fell  upon  us.     Being 


I20  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

strangers,  we  were  looked  upon  as  enemies.  Ha\-ing 
occasion  for  a  supply  of  lead  and  a  few  other  neces- 
sary articles,  we  used  to  go  over  to  the  emigrant 
camps  to  obtain  them.  After  some  hesitation,  some 
dubious  glances,  and  fumbling  of  the  hands  in  the 
pockets,  the  terms  would  be  agreed  upon,  the  price 
tendered,  and  the  emigrant  would  go  off  to  bring 
the  article  in  question.  After  waiting  until  our 
patience  gave  out,  we  would  go  in  search  of  him, 
and  find  him  seated  on  the  tongue  of  his  wagon. 

"Well,  stranger,"  he  would  observe,  as  he  saw 
us  approach,  "  I  reckon  I  won't  trade  !" 

Some  friend  of  his  had  followed  him  from  the 
scene  of  the  bargain,  and  suggested  in  his  ear  that 
clearly  we  meant  to  cheat  him,  and  he  had  better 
have  nothing  to  do  with  us. 

This  timorous  mood  of  the  emigrants  was  doubly 
unfortunate,  as  it  exposed  them  to  real  danger. 
Assunie,  in  the  presence  of  Indians,  a  bold  bearing, 
self-confident  yet  vigilant,  and  you  will  find  them 
tolerably  safe  neighbors.  But  your  safety  depends 
on  the  respect  and  fear  you  are  able  to  inspire.  If 
you  betray  timidit}-  or  indecision,  you  convert  them 
from  that  moment  into  insidious  and  dangerous  ene- 
mies. The  Dahcotah  saw  clearly  enough  the  per- 
turbation of  the  emigrants,  and  instantly  availed 
themselves  of  it.  They  became  extremely  insolent 
and  exacting  in  their  demands.  It  has  become  an 
established  custom  with  them  to  go  to  the  camp  of 
ever\-  part}-,  as  it  arrives  in  succession  at  the  fort, 
and  demand  a  feast.  Smoke's  village  had  come 
with  this  express  design,  having  made  several  days' 
journey  with  no  other  object  than  that  of  enjojnng  a 
cup  of  cofiee  and  two  or  three  biscuits.  So  the 
' '  feast ' '  was  demanded,  and  the  emigrants  dared 
not  refuse  it. 

One  evening,  about  sunset,  the  v-illage  was  de- 


/ 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         121 

serted.  We  met  old  men,  warriors,  squaws,  and 
children  in  gay  attire,  trooping  off  to  the  encamp- 
ment, with  faces  of  anticipation  ;  and,  arriving  here, 
they  seated  themselves  in  a  semicircle.  Smoke 
occupied  the  centre,  with  his  warriors  on  either 
hand  ;  the  young  men  and  boys  next  succeeded, 
and  the  squaws  and  children  formed  the  horns  of 
the  crescent.  The  biscuit  and  coffee  were  most 
promptly  dispatched,  the  emigrants  staring  open- 
mouthed  at  their  savage  guests.  With  each  emi- 
grant party  that  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie  this  scene 
was  renewed  ;  and  ever}-  day  the  Indians  grew  more 
rapacious  and  presumptuous.  One  evening  they 
broke  to  pieces,  out  of  mere  wantonness,  the  cups 
from  which  they  had  been  feasted  ;  and  this  so  ex- 
asperated the  emigrants  that  many  of  them  seized 
their  rifles  and  could  scarcely  be  restrained  from 
firing  on  the  insolent  mob  of  Indians.  Before  we 
left  the  countn,-  this  dangerous  spirit  on  the  part  of 
the  Dahcotah  had  mounted  to  a  yet  higher  pitch. 
They  began  openly  to  threaten  the  emigrants  with 
destruction,  and  actually  tired  upon  one  or  two  par- 
ties of  whites.  A  militar)'  force  and  militar}-  law 
are  urgently  called  for  in  that  perilous  region  ;  and 
unless  troops  are  speedily  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie, 
or  elsewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  both  the  emi- 
grants and  other  travellers  will  be  exposed  to  most 
imminent  risks. 

The  Ogillallah,  the  Brule,  and  the  other  western 
bands  of  the  Dahcotah  are  thorough  savages,  un- 
changed by  any  contact  with  civilization.  Not  one 
of  them  can  speak  an  European  tongue,  or  has  ever 
visited  an  American  settlement.  L'ntil  within  a 
year  or  two,  when  the  emigrants  began  to  pass 
through  their  country-  on  the  way  to  Oregon,  they 
had  seen  no  whites  except  the  handful  employed 
about  the  Fur  Company's  posts.     They  esteemed 


122  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

them  a  wise  people,  inferior  only  to  themselves, 
living  in  leather  lodges,  like  their  own,  and  sub- 
sisting on  buffalo.  But  when  the  swarm  of  Menc- 
aska,  with  their  oxen  and  wagons,  began  to  invade 
them,  their  astonishment  was  unbounded.  They 
could  scarcely  beheve  that  the  earth  contained  such 
a  multitude  of  white  men.  Their  wonder  is  now 
giving  way  to  indignation  ;  and  the  result,  unless 
vigilantly  guarded  against,  may  be  lamentable  in 
the  extreme. 

■ —  But  to  glance  at  the  interior  of  a  lodge.  Shaw 
and  I  used  often  to  visit  them.  Indeed,  we  spent 
most  of  our  evenings  in  the  Indian  village  ;  Shaw's 
assumption  of  the  medical  character  giving  us  a  fair 
pretext.  As  a  sample  of  the  rest  I  will  describe 
one  of  these  visits.  The  sun  had  just  set,  and  the 
horses  were  driven  into  the  corraL  The  Prairie 
Cock,  a  noted  beau,  came  in  at  the  gate  with  a  bevy 
of  young  girls,  with  whom  he  began  a  dance  in  the 
area,  leading  them  round  and  round  in  a  circle, 
while  he  jerked  up  from  his  chest  a  succession  of 
monotonous  sounds,  to  which  they  kept  time  in  a  rue- 
ful chant.  Outside  the  gate  boys  and  young  men 
were  idly  frolicking  ;  and  close  by,  looking  grimly 
upon  them,  stood  a  warrior  in  his  robe,  with  his  fece 
painted  jet-black,  in  token  that  he  had  latelv  taken 
a  Pawnee  scalp.  Passing  these,  the  tall  dark  lodges 
rose  between  us  and  the  red  western  sky.  We  re- 
paired at  once  to  the  lodge  of  Old  Smoke  himself. 
It  was  by  no  means  better  than  the  others  ;  indeed, 
it  was  rather  shabby  ;  for  in  this  democratic  com- 
munity the  chief  never  assumes  superior  state. 
Smoke  sat  cross-legged  on  a  buffalo-robe,  and  his 
grunt  of  salutation  as  we  entered  w-as  unusually 
cordial,  out  of  respect  no  doubt  to  Shaw's  medical 
character.  Seated  around  the  lodge  were  several 
squaws,  and  an  abundance  of  children.     The  com- 


SCEA'ES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.         1 23 

plaint  of  Shaw's  patients  was,  for  the  most  part,  a 
severe  inflammation  of  the  eyes,  occasioned  by  ex- 
posure to  the  sun,  a  species  of  disorder  which  he 
treated  with  some  success.  He  had  brought  with 
him  a  homoeopathic  medicine-chest,  and  was,  I 
presume,  the  first  who  introduced  that  harmless 
system  of  treatment  among  the  Ogillallah.  No 
sooner  had  a  robe  been  spread  at  the  head  of  the 
lodge  for  our  accommodation,  and  we  had  seated 
ourselves  upon  it,  than  a  patient  made  her  appear- 
ance ;  the  chiefs  daughter  herself,  who.  to  do  her 
justice,  was  the  best-looking  girl  in  the  village. 
Being  on  excellent  terms  with  the  physician,  she 
placed  herself  readily  under  his  hands,  and  sub- 
mitted with  a  good  grace  to  his  applications,  laugh- 
ing in  his  face  during  the  whole  process,  for  a  squaw 
hardly  knows  how  to  smile.  This  case  dispatched, 
another  of  a  different  kind  succeeded.  A  hideous, 
emaciated  old  woman  sat  in  the  darkest  comer  of 
the  lodge,  rocking  to  and  fro  with  pain,  and  hiding 
her  eyes  from  the  light  by  pressing  the  palms  of 
both  hands  against  her  face.  At  Smoke's  com- 
mand she  came  fonvard  ven.-  un%^'illingly,  and  ex- 
hibited a  pair  of  eyes  that  had  nearly  disappeared 
from  excess  of  inflammation.  No  sooner  had  the 
doctor  fastened  his  grip  upon  her  than  she  set  up  a 
dismal  moaning,  and  writhed  so  in  his  grasp  that  he 
lost  all  patience,  but  being  resolved  to  carry  his 
point,  he  succeeded  at  last  in  applying  his  favorite 
remedies. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said,  when  the  operation  was 
finished,  "that  I  forgot  to  bring  any  Spanish  flies 
with  me  ;  we  must  have  something  here  to  answer 
for  a  counter-irritant  !  " 

So,  in  the  absence  of  better,  he  seized  upon  a  red- 
hot  brand  from  the  fire,  and  clapped  it  against  the 
temple  of  the  old  squaw,  who  set  up  an  unearthly 


124  ^-^^    OREGON  TRAIL. 

howl,  at  which  the  rest  of  the  family  broke  out  into 
a  laugh. 

During  these  medical  operations  Smoke's  eldest 
squaw  entered  the  lodge  with  a  sort  of  stone  mallet 
in  her  hand.  I  had  observed  some  time  before  a 
litter  of  well-grown  black  puppies  comfortably 
nestled  among  some  buttalo-robes  at  one  side,  but 
this  new-comer  speedily  disturbed  their  enjoyment ; 
for,  seizing  one  of  them  by  the  hind  paw,  she 
dragged  him  out,  and  carrying  him  to  the  entrance 
of  the  lodge,  hammered  him  on  the  head  till  she 
killed  him.  Being  quite  conscious  to  what  this 
preparation  tended,  I  looked  through  a  hole  in  the 
back  of  the  lodge  to  see  the  next  steps  of  the 
process.  The  squaw,  holding  the  puppy  by  the 
legs,  was  swinging  him  to  and  fro  through  the  blaze 
of  a  fire,  until  the  hair  was  singed  off.  This  done, 
she  unsheathed  her  knife  and  cut  him  into  small 
pieces,  which  she  dropped  into  a  kettle  to  boil.  In 
a  few  moments  a  large  wooden  dish  was  set  before 
us,  filled  with  this  deUcate  preparation.  We  felt 
conscious  of  the  honor.  A  dog-feast  is  the  greatest 
compliment  a  Dahcotah  can  offer  to  his  guest ;  and 
knowing  that  to  refuse  eating  would  be  an  affront, 
we  attacked  the  little  dog,  and  devoured  him  before 
the  eyes  of  his  unconscious  parent.  Smoke  in  the 
meantime  was  preparing  his  great  pipe.  It  was 
lighted  when  we  had  finished  our  repast,  and  we 
passed  it  from  one  to  another  till  the  bowl  was 
empt)'.  This  done,  we  took  our  leave  without 
farther  ceremony,  knocked  at  the  gate  of  the  fort, 
and  after  making  ourselves  kno^\•n,  were  admitted. 

One  morning,  about  a  week  after  reaching  Fort 
Laramie,  we  were  holding  our  customary-  Indian 
levee,  when  a  bustle  in  the  area  below  announced  a 
new  arrival  ;  and,  looking  down  from  our  balcony, 
I  saw  a  famUiar  red  beard  and  moustache  in  the 


SCEXES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.  1 25 

gateway.  They  belonged  to  the  Captain,  who, 
with  his  party,  had  just  crossed  the  stream.  We 
met  him  on  the  stairs  as  he  came  up,  and  congratu- 
lated him  on  the  safe  arrival  of  himself  and  his 
devoted  companions.  But  he  remembered  our 
treachery,  and  was  grave  and  dignified  accordingly  ; 
a  tendency  which  increased  as  he  observed  on  our 
part  a  disposition  to  laugh  at  him.  After  remaining 
an  hour  or  two  at  the  fort  he  rode  away  with  his 
friends,  and  we  have  heard  nothing  of  him  since. 
As  for  R.,  he  kept  carefully  aloof.  It  was  but  too 
evident  that  we  had  the  unhappiness  to  have  for- 
feited the  kind  regards  of  our  London  fellow-trav- 
eller. 

NOTE. 

Somewhat  more  than  a  year  from  this  time  Shaw  hap- 
pened to  be  in  New  York,  and  coming  one  morning  down 
the  steps  of  the  Astor  House,  encountered  a  small  newsboy 
with  a  bundle  of  penny  papers  under  his  arm,  who  screamed 
in  his  ear,  "  Another  great  battle  in  ^^exico  !"  Shaw  bought 
a  paper,  and  having  perused  the  glorious  intelligence,  was 
looking  over  the  remaining  columns,  when  the"  following 
paragraph  attracted  his  notice  : 

"  English  Travelling  Sportsmen.— .Among  the  nota- 
ble arrivals  in  town  are  two  English  gentlemen,  William 
and  John  C,  Esqrs.,  at  the  Clinton  Hotel,  on  their  return 
home  after  an  extended  buffalo-hunting  tour  in  Oregon  and 
the  wild  West.  Their  party  crossed  the  continent  in  March, 
1846,  since  when  our  travellers  have  seen  the  wonders  of 
our  great  West,  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  the  no  less 
agreeable  Coast  of  Western  Mexico,  California,  and  Peru. 
With  the  real  zeal  of  sportsmen  they  have  pursued  adven- 
ture whenever  it  has  offered,  and  returned  with  not  onlv  a 
correct  knowledge  of  the  West,  but  with  many  a  trophv  that 
shows  they  have  found  the  grand  sport  they  sought.  The 
account  of  'Oregon,'  given  by  those  observing  travellers, 
is  most  glowing,  and  though  upon  a  pleasure  trip,  the  advan- 
tages to  be  realized  by  commercial  men  have  not  been  over- 
looked, and  they  prophesy  for  that  "  Western  State'  a  pros- 
perity not  exceeded  at  the  east.  The  fisheries  are  spoken 
of  as  the  best  in  the  country,  and  only  equalled  by  the  rare 


126  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


farilitSes  for  agriciiltTire.  A  trip  like  this  now  closed  is  a 
rare  ttmdeirtakiiig,  bat  as  interesting  as  rare  to  those  who  are 
capable  of  a  fell  appreciation  of  all  the  wonders  that  met 
tbemin  ti>e  jnagnifioeBt  region  they  have  traversed.  " 

la  some  admiratioB  at  the  heroic  light  in  which  Jack  and 
ih&  Captain  were  here  set  forth,  Shaw  pocketed  the  news- 
paper, and  proceeded  to  make  inquiry  after  his  old  fellow- 
travellers.  Jack  was  out  of  town,  but  the  Captain  was 
qnsetly  established  at  his  hotel.  Except  that  the  red  mous- 
tache was  shorn  awav,  he  was  in  all  respects  the  same  man 
whom  we  bad  left  upon  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte.  Every 
recollection  of  former  differences  had  vanished  from  his 
mind,  and  he  greeted  his  visitor  most  cordially.  ""Where 
is  R-?"  asked  Shaw.  "Gone  to  the  de^il,"  hastily  rephed 
tiae  Captain;  "  that  is,  Jack  and  I  parted  from  him'  at  Ore- 
gon O^.and  haven't  seen  him  since."  He  next  proceeded 
to  give  an  aicoount  of  his  joume>-ings  after  leaving  us  at 
Fort  Laiamie.  No  sooner,  it  seemed,  had  he  done  so,  than 
he  and  Jadk  began  to  slaughter  the  buffalo  wth  unrelenting 
fiity.batvfaen  they  reached  the  other  side  of  the  South  Pass 
dieir  rifles  were  l^id  by  asoseless,  since  there  were  neither 
Iiwiiaiw;  nor  game  to  exercise  them  upon.  From  this  ptoint 
the  jonmey.  as  the  Captain  expressed  it,  was  a  great  bore. 
When  they  reached  die  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  he  and  Jack 
sailed  for  die  Sandinch  IsSands.  «^ience  they  proceeded  to 
Panama,  across  the  Isttimns,  and  came  by  sea  to  New 
Oileans. 

Shaw  and  our  friend  ^>ent  the  evening  together,  and  when 
they  finalQr  separated  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the 
Captain's  ruddy  lace  was  ruddier  than  ever. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  WAR-PARTIES. 


"  By  the  nine  gods  he  swore  it, 
And  named  a  trysting-day, 
And  bade  his  messengers  ride  forth, 
East  and  west  and  south  and  north, 
To  summon  his  array." 

Lays  of  Ancient  Rome. 

The  summer  oi  iS^  was  a  season  of  much  war- 
like excitement  among  all  the  western  bands  of  the 
Dahcotah.  In  1845  they  encountered  great  re- 
verses. Many  war-parties  had  been  sent  out  ;  some 
of  them  had  been  totally  cut  off,  and  others  had 
returned  broken  and  disheartened  ;  so  that  the 
whole  nation  was  in  mourning.  Among  the  rest, 
ten  warriors  had  gone  to  the  Snake  country,  led  by 
the  son  of  a  prominent  Ogillallah  chief,  called  the 
Whirlwind.  In  passing  over  Laramie  Plains  they 
encountered  a  superior  number  of  their  enemies, 
were  surrounded,  and  killed  to  a  man.  Having 
performed  this  exploit,  the  Snakes  became  alarmed, 
dreading  the  resentment  of  the  Dahcotah,  and  they 
hastened  therefore  to  signify  their  wish  for  peace  by 
sending  the  scalp  of  the  slain  partisan,  together 
with  a  small  parcel  of  tobacco  attached,  to  his 
tribesmen  and  relations.  They  had  employed  old 
\'askiss,  the  trader,  as  their  messenger,  and  the  scalp 
was  the  same  that  hung  in  our  room  at  the  fort. 
But  the  Whirlwind  proved  inexorable.  Though  his 
character  hardly  corresponds  with  his  name,  he  is 
nevertheless  an  Indian,  and  hates  the  Snakes  with 
his  whole  soul.  Long  before  the  scalp  arrived  he 
had  made  his  preparations  for  revenge.  He  sent 
messengers  with    presents  and  tobacco   to  all  the 

127 


v" 


128  THE   OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

DahcC'iih  's-;ih:n  ihree  bundreti  miles,  proposing  a 
grand  coobinaiicri  10  ct25tise  the  Snakes,  and 
naming  a  place  and  dme  of  rendezvous.  The  plan 
was  readily  adc^ted,  and  at  this  moment  many  vil- 
kiges.  probably  embiacing  in  the  whole  five  or  six 
thousand  souls,  were  slowly  creeping  over  the  prai- 
ties  and  tending  toward  the  common  centre  at  "  La 
Bonte's  camp."  on  the  Hatte.  Here  thor  warlike 
rites  were  to  be  celebrated  with  more  than  ordinary 
solemnity,  and  a  thousand  warriors,  as  it  was  said, 
were  to  srt  out  for  the  enemy's  country.  The  char- 
acteristic result  of  this  preparation  will  appear  in 
the  sequeL 

I  was  gready  rejoiced  to  hear  of  it.  I  had  come 
into  the  country  almost  exduavely  widi  a  view  of 
nhjMMVing  t^^  tnc^nrtMrartpr  Having  finom  child- 
hood felt  a  curio^^^n  this  subject,  and  barii^ 
&iled  completely  to  gratify  it  by  readii^,  I  resolved 
to  hare  recourse  to  observation.  I  wished  to  satisfy 
myself  widi  n^^ard  to  the  position  of  the  Indians 
among  the  races  of  men  ;  tfee_vices  and  the  virtues 
that  have  sprung  from  their  innate  character  and 
from  th^  modes  of  life,  their  government,  their 
superstitions,  and  their  domestic  situation.  To 
accomplish  my  purpose  it  was  necessary-  to  live  in 
die  midst  fA  them,  and  become,  as  it  were,  one  of 
them.  I  pnqiosed  to  join  a  village,  and  make  my- 
self an  inmate  vi  one  tA  thor  lodges  ;  and  hence- 
forward this  narrative,  so  iar  as  I  am  concerned, 
will  be  chiefly  a  record  of  the  progress  of  diis  de- 
sign, apparendy  so  easy  of  accomplishment,  and 
die  unexpected  impediments  that  opposed  it. 

We  resolved  on  no  account  to  miss  the  rendezvous 
at  "La  Bonte's  camp."  Our  plan  was  to  leave 
Delorier  at  the  fort,  in  charge  of  our  equipage  and 
die  better  part  of  our  horses,  while  we  took  with  us 
nothing  bm  o"jr  weapons  and  the  worst  animals  we 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  1 29 

had.  In  all  probability  jealousies  and  quarrels 
would  arise  among  so  many  hordes  of  fierce  impul- 
sive savages,  congregated  together  under  no  com- 
mon head,  and  many  of  them  strangers,  from  re 
mote  prairies  and  mountains.  We  were  bound  in 
common  prudence  to  be  cautious  how  we  e.xcited 
any  feeling  of  cupidity.  This  was  our  plan,  but 
unhappily  we  were  not  destined  to  visit  "  La  Bonte's 
camp"  in  this  manner;  for  one  morning  a  young 
Indian  came  to  the  fort  and  brought  us  evil  tidings. 
The  new-comer  was  a  dandy  of  the  first  water.  His 
ugly  face  was  painted  with  vermilion  ;  on  his  head 
fluttered  the  tail  of  a  prairie-cock  (a  large  species  of 
pheasant,  not  found,  as  I  have  heard,  eastward  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains)  ;  in  his  ears  were  hung  pen- 
dants of  shell,  and  a  flaming  red  blanket  was 
wrapped  around  him.  He  carried  a  dragoon-sword 
in  his  hand  solely  for  display,  since  the  knife,  the 
arrow,  and  the  rifle  are  the  arbiters  of  ever)-  prairie 
fight  ;  but  as  no  one  in  this  countr)-  goes  abroad 
unarmed,  the  dandy  carried  a  bow  and  arrows  in  an 
otter-skin  quiver  at  his  back.  In  this  guise,  and 
bestriding  his  yellow  horse  with  an  air  of  extreme 
dignity,  "  The  Horse,"  for  that  was  his  name,  rode 
in  at  the  gate,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  the 
left,  but  casting  glances  askance  at  the  groups  of 
squaws  who,  with  their  mongrel  progeny,  were  sit- 
ting in  the  sun  before  their  doors.  The  evil  tidings 
brought  by  "  The  Horse  "  were  of  the  following  im- 
port :  The  squaw  of  Henr)'  Chatillon,  a  woman  with 
whom  he  had  been  connected  for  years  by  the 
strongest  ties  which  in  that  country-  exist  between 
the  sexes,  was  dangerously  ill.  She  and  her  chil- 
dren were  in  the  village  of  the  Whirlwind,  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  days'  journey.  Henr>-  was  anx- 
ious to  see  the  woman  before  she  died,  and  provide 
for  the  safety  and  support  of  his  children,  of  whom 
9 


130  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

he  was  extremely  fond.  To  have  refused  him  this 
would  have  been  gross  inhumanity.  We  abandoned 
our  plan  of  joining  Smoke's  village  and  of  proceed- 
ing with  it  to  the  rendezvous,  and  determined  to 
meet  the  Whirlwind,  and  go  in  his  company. 

I  had  been  slightly  ill  for  several  weeks,  but  on 
the  third  night  after  reaching  Fort  Laramie  a  violent 
pain  awoke  me  and  I  found  myself  attacked  by  the 
same  disorder  that  occasioned  such  heavy  losses  to 
the  army  on  the  Rio  Grande.  In  a  day  and  a  half 
I  was  reduced  to  extreme  weakness,  so  that  I  could 
not  walk  -without  pain  and  effort.  Having  within 
that  time  taken  six  grains  of  opium,  without  the 
least  beneficial  effect,  and  having  no  medical 
adviser,  i>or  any  choice  of  diet,  I  resolved  to  throw 
myself  upon  Providence  for  recovery,  using,  without 
r^ard  to  the  disorder,  any  portion  of  strength  that 
might  remain  to  me.  So  on  the  twentieth  of  June 
we  set  out  from  Fort  Laramie  to  meet  the  A\Tiirl- 
wind's  village.  Though  aided  by  the  high-bowed 
* '  moiratain-saddle, ' '  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  seat 
on  horseback.  Before  we  left  the  fort  we  hired 
another  man,  a  long-haired  Canadian,  with  a  face 
like  an  owl's,  contrasting  oddly  enough  with 
Delorier's  mercurial  countenance.  This  was  not 
the  only  reinforcement  to  our  party.  A  vagrant 
Indian  trader,  named  Reynal,  joined  us,  together 
with  his  squaw,  Margot,  and  her  two  nephews,  our 
dandy  friend,  "The  Horse,"  and  his  younger 
brother,  "  The  Hail  Storm."  Thus  accompanied, 
we  betook  ourselves  to  the  prairie,  leaving  the 
beaten  trail,  and  passing  over  the  desolate  hills  that 
flank  the  bottoms  of  Laramie  Creek.  In  all, 
Indians  and  whites,  we  counted  eight  men  and  one 
woman. 

Reynal,  the  trader,  the  image  of  sleek  and  selfish 
complacency,    carried    "The    Horse's"    dragoon- 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  I3I 

sword  in  his  hand,  delighting  apparently  in  this 
useless  parade  ;  for,  from  spending  half  his  life 
among  Indians,  he  had  caught  not  only  their  habits 
but  their  ideas.  Margot,  a  female  animal  of  more 
than  two  hundred  pounds'  weight,  was  couched  in 
the  basket  of  a  traiuiil,  such  as  I  have  before  de- 
scribed ;  besides  her  ponderous  bulk,  various  domes- 
tic utensils  were  attached  to  the  vehicle,  and  she 
was  leading  by  a  trail-rope  a  pack-horse,  who  carried 
the  covering  of  Reynal's  lodge.  Delorier  walked 
briskly  by  the  side  of  the  cart,  and  Raymond  came 
behind,  swearing  at  the  spare  horses  which  it  was 
his  business  to  drive.  The  restless  young  Indians, 
their  quivers  at  their  backs  and  their  bows  in  their 
hands,  galloped  over  the  hills,  often  starting  a  wolf 
or  an  antelope  from  the  thick  growth  of  wild-sage 
bushes.  Shaw  and  1  were  in  keeping  with  the  rest 
of  the  rude  cavalcade,  having,  in  the  absence  of 
other  clothing,  adopted  the  buckskin  attire  of  the 
trappers.  Henry  Chatillon  rode  in  advance  of  the 
whole.  Thus  we  passed  hill  after  hill  and  hollow 
after  hollow,  a  country  arid,  broken,  and  so  parched 
by  the  sun  that  none  of  the  plants  familiar  to  our 
more  favored  soil  would  flourish  upon  it,  though 
there  were  multitudes  of  strange  medicinal  herbs, 
more  especially  the  absanth,  which  covered  every 
dechvity,  and  cacti  were  hanging  like  reptiles  at  the 
edges  of  every  ravine.  At  length  we  ascended  a 
high  hill,  our  horses  treading  upon  pebbles  of  flint, 
agate,  and  rough  jasper,  until,  gaining  the  top, 
we  looked  down  on  the  wild  bottoms  of  Laramie 
Creek,  which,  far  below  us,  wound  like  a  writhing 
snake  from  side  to  side  of  the  narrow  interval,  amid 
a  growth  of  shattered  cotton-wood  and  ash  trees. 
Lines  of  tall  cliffs,  white  as  chalk,  shut  in  this  green 
strip  of  woods  and  meadow-land,  into  which  we 
descended    and  encamped  for  the   night.      In  the 


132  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

morning  we  passed  a  wide  grass}-  plain  by  the  river  ; 
there  was  a  grove  in  front,  and  beneath  its  shadows 
the  ruins  <*f  an  old  tiading-fort  of  logs.  The  grove 
bloomed  with  myriads  of  wild  roses,  with  their  sweet 
perfinne  fraught  with  recollections  of  home.  As  we 
eanerged  from  the  tre^.  a  rattlesnake,  as  large  as  a 
man's  arm  and  more  than  four  feet  long,  lay  coiled 
on  a  rock,  fiercely  rattling  and  hissing  at  us  ;  a  gra)' 
hare,  double  the  size  of  those  of  New  England, 
leaped  up  finom  the  tall  ferns  ;  curlew  were  scream- 
ing over  our  heads,  and  a  whole  host  of  little  piairie- 
dogs  sat  yelping  at  us  at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows 
on  the  dry  plain  beyond.  Suddenly  an  antelof)e 
leaped  up  from  the  wild-sage  bushes,  gazed  eagerly 
at  us,  and  then,  erecting  his  white  toil,  stretched 
away  like  a  greyhound.  The  two  Indian  boys  found 
a  white  wolf,  as  large  as  a  calf,  in  a  hollow,  and 
giving  a  shaip  yell,  they  ga]lc^>ed  after  him  ;  but 
the  wolf  leaped  into  the  stream  and  s^^am  across. 
Then  came  the  crack  of  a  rifle,  the  bullet  whistling 
harmlessly  ov^er  his  head,  as  he  scrambled  up  the 
steep  decUvity.  rattling  down  stones  and  earth  into 
the  water  below.  Advancing  a  httle.  we  beheld,  on 
the  £uther  bank  oS.  the  stream,  a  spectacle  not  com- 
mon even  in  that  r^;ion  ;  for,  emerging  fiY>m  among 
the  trees,  a  herd  of  some  tn'o  hundred  elk  came  out 
upon  the  meadow,  their  antlers  clattering  as  thev 
walked  forward  in  a  dense  throng.  Seeing  us,  they 
broke  into  a  run,  rushing  across  the  opening  and 
disappearing  among  the  trees  and  scattered  groves. 
On  our  left  was  a  barren  prairie,  stretching  to  the 
horizon ;  on  our  right,  a  deep  gulf,  with  Laramie 
Creek  at  the  bottom.  We  found  ourselves  at  length 
at  the  edge  of  a  steep  descent ;  a  narrow  valley, 
with  long  rank  grass  and  scattered  trees,  stretching 
before  us  for  a  mile  or  more  along  the  course  of  the 
stream.     Reaching  the  &rther  end,  we  stopped  and 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  I  33 

encamped.  An  old  huge  cotton-wood  tree  spread 
its  branches  horizontally  over  our  tent.  Laramie 
Creek,  circling  before  our  camp,  half-inclosed  us  ; 
it  swept  along  the  bottom  of  a  line  of  tall  white  cliffs 
that  looked  down  on  us  from  the  farther  bank. 
There  were  dense  copses  on  our  right  ;  the  clitts, 
too,  were  half-hidden  by  shnibben*-,  though  behind 
us  a  few  cotton-wood  trees,  dotting  the  green 
prairie,  alone  impeded  the  view,  and  friend  or 
enemy  could  be  discerned  in  that  direction  at  a 
mile's  distance.  Here  we  resolved  to  remain  and 
await  the  arrival  of  the  Whirlwind,  who  would  cer- 
tainly pass  this  way  in  his  progress  toward 
La  Bonte's  camp.  To  go  in  search  of  him  was  not 
expedient,  both  on  account  of  the  broken  and  im- 
practicable nature  of  the  countr}-  and  the  uncertainty 
of  his  position  and  movements  ;  besides,  our  horses 
were  almost  worn  out,  and  I  was  in  no  condition  to 
travel.  We  had  good  grass,  good  water,  tolerable 
fish  from  the  stream,  and  plenty  of  smaller  game, 
such  as  antelope  and  deer,  though  no  buffalo. 
There  was  one  little  drawback  to  our  satisfaction  ;  a 
certain  extensive  tract  of  bushes  and  dried  grass, 
just  behind  us,  which  it  was  by  no  means  advisable 
to  enter,  since  it  sheltered  a  numerous  brood  of  rattle- 
snakes. Henr\- Chatillon  again  dispatched  "The 
Horse"  to  the  village,  with  a  message  to  his  squaw 
that  she  and  her  relatives  should  leave  the  rest  and 
push  on  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  our  camp. 

Our  daily  routine  soon  became  as  regular  as  that 
of  a  well-ordered  household.  The  weather-beaten 
old  tree  was  in  the  centre  ;  our  rifles  generally  rested 
against  its  vast  trunk,  and  our  saddles  were  flung  on 
the  ground  around  it  ;  its  distorted  roots  were  so 
twisted  as  to  form  one  or  two  convenient  arm-chairs, 
where  we  could  sit  in  the  shade  and  read  or  smoke  ; 
but   meal-times   became,   on  the  whole,    the  most 


134  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

interesting  hours  of  the  day,  and  a  bountiful  pro- 
vision was  made  for  them.  An  antelope  or  a  deer 
usually  swung  from  a  stout  bough,  and  haunches 
were  suspended  against  the  trunk.  That  .gamp  is 
daguerreotyped  on  my  memory  ;  the  old  tree,  the 
white  tent,  with  Shaw  sleeping  in  the  shadow  of  it, 
and  Reynal's  miserable  lodge  close  by  the  bank  of  the 
stream.  It  was  a  wretched  oven-shaped  structure, 
made  of  begrimed  and  tattered  buffalo-hides  stretched 
over  a  frame  of  poles  ;  one  side  was  open,  and  at 
the  side  of  the  opening  hung  the  powder-horn  and 
bullet-pouch  of  tlie  owner,  together  with  his  long 
red  pipe,  and  a  rich  quiver  of  otter-skin,  with  a  bow 
and  arrows  ;  for  Reynal,  an  Indian  in  most  things 
but  color,  chose  to  hunt  buffalo  with  these  primitive 
weapons.  In  the  darkness  of  this  cavern-like  habi- 
tation might  be  discerned  Madame  Margot,  her 
overgrown  bulk  stowed  away  among  her  domestic 
implements,  furs,  robes,  blankets,  and  painted  cases 
oi  par  flee hc\  in  which  dried  meat  is  kept.  Here 
she  sat  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  a  bloated  impersona- 
tion of  gluttony  and  laziness,  while  her  affectionate 
proprietor  was  smoking,  or  begging  petty  gifts  from 
us,  or  telling  lies  concerning  his  own  achievements, 
or  perchance  engaged  in  the  more  profitable  occu- 
pation of  cooking  some  preparation  of  prairie  deh- 
cacies.  Reynal  was  an  adept  at  this  work  ;  he  and 
Delorier  have  joined  forces,  and  are  hard  at  work 
together  over  the  fire,  while  Raymond  spreads,  by 
way  of  table-cloth,  a  buffalo-hide  carefully  whitened 
with  pipe-clay,  on  the  grass  before  the  tent.  Here, 
with  ostentatious  display,  he  arranges  the  teacups  and 
plates  ;  and  then,  creeping  on  all  fours,  like  a  dog, 
he  thrusts  his  head  in  at  the  opening  of  the  tent. 
For  a  moment  we  see  his  round  owlish  eyes  rolling 
wildly,  as  if  the  idea  he  came  to  communicate  had 
suddenly  escaped  him  ;  then  collecting  his  scattered 


THE    WAR- PARTIES.  I  35 

thoughts,  as  if  by  an  effort,  he  informs  us  that  sup- 
per is  ready,  and  instantly  withdraws. 

When  sunset  came,  and  at  that  hour  the  wild  and 
desolate  scene  would  assume  a  new  aspect,  the 
horses  were  driven  in.  They  had  been  grazing  all 
day  in  the  neighboring  meadow,  but  now  they  were 
picketed  close  about  the  camp.  As__tiie^  prairie 
darkened  we  sat  and  conversed  around  the  fire, 
until  becoming  drowsy  we  spread  our  saddles  on 
the  ground,  wrapped  our  blankets  around  us,  and 
lay  down.  We  never  placed  a  guard,  ha\  ing  by 
this  time  become  too  indolent  ;  but  Henr\-  Chatillon 
folded  his  loaded  rifle  in  the  same  blanket  with  him- 
self, obsersing  that  he  always  took  it  to  bed  with  him 
when  he  camped  in  that  place.  Henry  was  too  bold 
a  man  to  use  such  a  precaution  without  good  cause. 
We  had  a  hint  now  and  then  that  our  situation  was 
none  of  the  safest  ;  several  Crow  war-parties  were 
known  to  be  in  the  vicinits-,  and  one  of  them,  that 
passed  here  some  time  before,  had  peeled  the  bark 
from  a  neighboring  tree,  and  engraved  upon  the 
white  wood  certain  hieroglyphics,  to  signify  that  they 
had  invaded  the  territories  of  their  enemies,  the 
Dahcotah,  and  set  them  at  defiance.  One  morning 
a  thick  mist  covered  the  whole  country.  Shaw  and 
Henn,-  went  out  to  ride,  and  soon  came  back  with  a 
startling  piece  of  intelligence  ;  they  had  found 
within  rifle-shot  of  our  camp  the  recent  trail  of 
about  thirty  horsemen.  They  could  not  be  whites, 
and  they  could  not  be  Dahcotah,  since  we  knew  no 
such  parties  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  ;  therefore 
^hfy-fP"'^'^  hfc-C<;m>if;  Thanks  to  that  friendly  mist, 
//'we  had  escaped  a  hard  battle  ;  they  would  inevitably 
have  attacked  us  and  our  Indian  companions  had  they 
seen  our  camp.  Whatever  doubts  we  might  have 
entertained  were  quite  removed  a  day  or  two  after 
bv  two  or  three  Dahcotah,  who  came  to  us  with  an 


136  THE    C REG  OX  TRAIL. 

account  of  ha\'inj:  hidden  in  a  ra\-ine  on  that 
very  morning,  frcm  whence  they  saw  and  counted 
the  Crows ;  they  said  that  they  followed  them, 
careAilly  keying  out  crf°  s^ht.  as  they  passed  up 
Chugwat)Qr ;  that  here  the  Crows  discoveied  five 
dead  bodies  vH  Dahcotah,  placed  according  to  the 
national  cnstXHn  in  trees,  and  flinging  tfaeDOi  to  the 
ground,  they  held  their  guns  against  than  and  Uenr 
them  to  atmns. 

If  our  camp  were  not  ahogi^her  safe,  still  it  was 
comfcHtable  enoi^fa  ;  at  least  it  was  so  to  Shaw,  fin* 
I  was  tormented  with  illness  and  vexed  by  the  delay 
in  the  acoMnplishmmt  of  my  designs.  Wlian  a 
respite  in  my  discMndo'  gave  me  stnne  returning 
strength,  I  rode  out  wdl  armed  upon  the  prairie.  <»- 
bathed  with  Shaw  in  die  stream,  or  waged  a  petty 
war&re  with  the  inhalMtants  erf'  a  neighboring 
piairJe-dog  village.  Around  our  fire  at  ni^ht  we 
employed  ourselves  in  invd^hing  against  the  fickle- 
ness and  inconstancy  fA  Indians,  and  execrating  diie 
\Miirlwind  and  all  his  village.  At  last  the  dung 
grew  insuiterable. 

"  To-morrow  nuHiiing,"  said  I.  "  I  will  start  few 
the  fort,  and  see  if  I  can  hear  any  news  there." 
Late  that  evening,  when  the  fire  had  sunk  low.  and 
aH  the  camp  were  asleqi,  a  loud  cry  sounded  from 
the  darkness.  Heiuy  started  up.  recognized  the 
voice,  replied  to  it,  and  our  dandy  friend,  "The 
Horse."  rode  in  amoi^  us,  just  returned  from  his 
mission  to  the  village.  He  coolly  picketed  his 
mare,  without  saying  a  word,  sat  down  by  the  fire 
and  began  to  eat,  but  his  impoturbable  phQosc^hy 
was  too  much  few  our  patioice.  Wliere  was  the 
vin^e  ? — about  fifiy  miles  soudi  of  us  ;  it  was  mov- 
ing slowly  and  would  not  arrive  in  less  than  awe^  ; 
and  where  \^"as  Henry's  squaw?  coining  as  frtst  as 
she  could  with  Mahto-Tatonka,  and  the  rest  erf  her 


THE    WAR- PARTIES.  1 37 

brothers,  but  she  would  never  reach  us,  for  she  was 
dying,  and  asking  ever}-  moment  for  Henn,-.  Henr\'s 
manly  face  became  clouded  and  downcast  ;  he  said 
that  if  we  were  willing  he  would  go  in  the  morning 
to  find  her,  at  which  Shaw  oftered  to  accompany 
him. 

We  saddled  our  horses  at  sunrise.  Reynal  pro- 
tested vehemently  against  being  left  alone,  with  no- 
body but  the  two  Canadians  and  the  young  Indians, 
when  enemies  were  in  the  neighborhood.  Disre- 
garding his  complaints,  we  left  him.  and  coming  to 
the  mouth  of  Chugwater,  separated,  Shaw  and 
Henry  turning  to  the  right,  up  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  while  I  made  for  the  fort. 

Taking  leave  for  a  while  of  my  friend  and  the 
unfortunate  squaw,  1  will  relate  by  way  of  episode 
what  1  saw  and  did  at  Fort  Laramie.  It  was  not 
more  than  eighteen  miles  distant,  and  I  reached  it 
in  three  hours  ;  a  shrivelled  little  figure,  wrapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  dingy  white  Canadian  capote, 
stood  in  the  gateway,  holding  by  a  cord  of  bull's 
hide  a  shaggy-*  wild  horse,  which  he  had  lately 
caught.  His  sharp  prominent  features  and  his  little 
keen  snake-like  eyes  looked  out  from  beneath  the 
shadowy  hood  of  the  capote,  which  was  drawn  over 
his  head  exactly  like  the  cowl  of  a  Capuchin  friar. 
His  face  was  extremely  thin  and  like  an  old  piece 
of  leather,  and  his  mouth  spread  from  ear  to  ear. 
Extending  his  long  win,-  hand,  he  welcomed  me 
with  something  more  cordial  than  the  ordinary-  cold 
salute  of  an  Indian,  for  we  were  excellent  friends. 
He  had  made  an  exchange  of  horses  to  our  mutual 
advantage  ;  and  Paul,  thinking  himself  well  treated, 
had  declared  everywhere  that  the  white  man  had  a 
good  heart.  He  was  a  Dahcotah  from  the  Missouri, 
a  reputed  son  of  the  half-breed  interpreter,  Pierre 
Dorion,  so  often  mentioned  in  Irving' s  "Astoria." 


^ 


138  THE   O REG  OX  TRAIL. 

He  said  tliat  he  was  going  to  Richard's  trading- 
house  to  sell  his  horse  to  some  emigrants  who  were 
encamped  there,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him.  We 
forded  the  stream  together,  Paul  dragging  his  -wild 
charge  behind  him.  As  we  passed  over  the  sandy 
plains  beyond,  he  grew  quite  communicative.  Paul 
was  a  cosmopolitan  in  his  way  ;  he  had  been  to  the 
settlements  of  the  whites,  and  \isited  in  peace  and 
war  most  of  the  tribes  within  the  range  of  a  thousand 
miles.  He  spoke  a  jargon  of  French  and  another 
of  English,  yet  nevertheless  he  was  a  thorough  In- 
dian ;  and  as  he  told  of  the  bloody  deeds  of  his  own 
people  against  their  enemies  his  little  eye  would 
glitter  with  a  fierce  lustre.  He  told  how  the  Dah- 
cntah  exterminated  a  village  of  the  Hohays  on  the 
Upper  Missouri,  slaughtering  men,  women,  and 
children  ;  and  how  an  overwhelming  force  of  them 
cut  off  sixteen  of  the  brave  Delawares,  who  fought 
like  wolves  to  the  last,  amid  the  throng  of  their 
enemies.  He  told  me  also  another  stor\-,  which  I 
did  not  believe  until  I  had  heard  it  confirmed  from 
so  many  independent  sources  that  no  room  was  left 
for  doubt.      I  am  tempted  to  introduce  it  here. 

Six  years  ago,  a  fellow  named  Jim  Beck  with,  a 
mongrel  of  French,  American,  and  negro  blood, 
was  trading  for  the  Fur  Company,  in  a  very  large 
village  of  the  Crows.  Jim  Beckwith  was  last  summer 
at  St.  Louis.  He  is  a  ruffian  of  the  first  stamp  ; 
bloody  and  treacherous,  without  honor  or  honest)-  ; 
such  at  least  is  the  character  he  bears  upon  the 
prairie.  Yet  in  his  case  all  the  standard  rules  of 
character  fe.il,  for  though  he  will  stab  a  man  in  his 
sleep,  he  will  also  perform  most  desperate  acts  of 
daring  ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  following  :  \Miile 
he  was  in  the  Crow  village,  a  Elackfoot  war-partv-, 
between  thirty-  s.nd  fort)'  in  number,  came  stealing 
through  the  country,  killing  stragglers  and  carrying 


THE    WAR- PARTIES.  I  39 

off  horses.  The  Crow  warriors  got  upon  their  trail 
and  pressed  them  so  closely  that  they  could  not 
escape,  at  which  the  Blackfeet.  throwing  up  a  semi- 
circular breastwork  of  logs  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice, 
coolly  awaited  their  approach.  The  logs  and  sticks, 
piled  four  or  five  feet  high,  protected  them  in  front. 
The  Crows  might  have"  swept  over  the  breastwork 
and  exterminated  their  enemies  ;  but  though  out- 
numbering them  tenfold,  they  did  not  dream  of 
storming  the  little  fortification.  Such  a  proceeding 
would  be  altogether  repugnant  to  their  notions  of 
warfare.  Whooping  and  yelling,  and  jumping  from 
side  to  side  like  devils  incarnate,  they  showered 
bullets  and  arrows  upon  the  logs  ;  not  a  Blackfoot 
was  hurt,  but  several  Crows,  in  spite  of  their  leaping 
and  dodging,  were  shot  down.  In  this  childish 
manner,  the  fight  went  on  for  an  hour  or  two.  Now 
and  then  a  Crow  warrior  in  an  ecstasy  of  valor  and 
vainglory  would  scream  forth  his  war-song,  boasting 
himself  the  bravest  and  greatest  of  mankind,  and 
grasping  his  hatchet,  would  rush  up  and  strike  it 
upon  the  breastwork,  and  then  as  he  retreated  to 
his  companions,  fall  dead  under  a  shower  of  arrows  ; 
yet  no  combined  attack  seemed  to  be  dreamed  of. 
The  Blackfeet  remained  secure  in  their  intrench- 
ment.     At  last  Jim  I5eckwith  lost  patience  : 

"You  are  all  fools  and  old  women,"  he  said  to 
the  Crows  ;  "  come  with  me,  if  any  of  you  are  brave 
enough,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  fight." 

He  threw  off  his  trapper's  frock  of  buckskin  and 
stripped  himself  naked  hke  the  Indians  themselves. 
He  left  his  rifle  or  the  ground,  and  taking  in  his 
hand  a  small  light  hatchet,  he  ran  over  the  prairie 
to  the  right,  concealed  by  a  hollow  from  the  eyes  of 
the  Blackfeet.  Then  climbing  up  the  rocks,  he 
gained  the  top  of  the  precipice  behind  them.  Forty 
or  fifty  young  Crow  warriors  followed  him.      By  the 


I40  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

cries  and  whoops  that  rose  from  below  he  knew  that 
the  Blackfeet  were  just  beneath  him  ;  and  running 
forward  he  leaped  down  the  rock  into  the  midst  of 
them.  As  he  fell  he  caught  one  by  the  long  loose 
hair,  and,  dragging  him  down,  tornahawked  him  ; 
then  grasping  another  by  the  belt  at  his  waist,  he 
struck  him  also  a  stunning  blow,  and  gaining  his 
feet,  shouted  the  Crow  war-cr)-.  He  sw^ng  his 
hatchet  so  fiercely  around  him  that  the  astonished 
Blackfeet  bore  back  and  gave  him  room.  He  might, 
had  he  chosen,  have  leaped  over  the  breastwork 
and  escaped  ;  but  this  was  not  necessar\-,  for  with 
devilish  yells  the  Crow  warriors  came  dropping  in 
quick  succession  over  the  rock  among  their  enemies. 
The  main  body  of  the  Crows,  too,  answered  the  cr)- 
from  the  front,  and  rushed  up  simultaneously.  The 
convulsive  struggle  within  the  breasr*  ork  was  fright- 
ful :  for  an  instant  the  Blackfeet  fought  and  yelled 
like  pent-up  tigers  ;  but  the  butchery  was  soon  com- 
plete, and  the  mangled  bodies  lay  piled  up  together 
under  the  precipice.  Not  a  Blackfoot  made  his 
escape. 

As  Paul  finished  his  stor\-  we  came  in  sight  of 
Richard's  fort.  It  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  plain  ; 
a  disorderl}"  crowd  of  men  around  it,  and  an  emi- 
grant camp  a  httle  in  front. 

"Now,  Paul,"'  said  I,  "where  are  your  Minni- 
congew  lodges  ?' ' 

"Not  come  yet,"  said  Paul,  "maybe  come  to- 
morrow. 

Two  large  \-illages  of  a  band  of  Dahcotah  had 
come  three  hundred  miles  from  the  Missouri  to  join 
in  the  war.  and  they  were  expected  to  reach  Rich- 
ard's that  morning.  There  was  as  yet  no  sign  of 
their  approach  ;  so  pushing  through  a  noisj",  drunken 
crowd,  I  entered  an  apartment  of  logs  and  mud,  the 
largest  in  the  fort :  it  was  full  of  men  of  various 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  I4I 

races  and  complexions,  all  more  or  less  drunk.  A 
company  of  California  emigrants,  it  seemed,  had 
made  the  discover}-  at  this  late  day  that  they  had 
encumbered  themselves  with  too  many  supplies  for 
their  journey.  A  part,  therefore,  they  had  thrown 
away  or  sold  at  great  loss  to  the  traders,  but  had 
determined  to  get  rid  of  their  verj-  copious  stock  of 
Missouri  whiskey  by  drinking  it  on  the  spot.  Here 
were  maudlin  squaws  stretched  on  piles  of  buffalo- 
robes  ;  squalid  Mexicans,  armed  with  bows  and 
arrows  ;  Indians  sedately  drunk  ;  long-haired  Cana- 
dians and  trappers,  and  American  backwoodsmen  in 
brown  homespun  ;  the  well-beloved  pistol  and  bowie- 
knife  displayed  openly  at  their  sides.  In  the  middle 
of  the  room  a  tall,  lank  man,  with  a  dingy  broad- 
cloth coat,  was  haranguing  the  company  in  the  style 
of  the  stump  orator.  With  one  hand  he  sawed  the 
air,  and  with  the  other  clutched  firmly  a  brown  jug 
of  whiskey,  which  he  applied  ever)'  moment  to  his 
lips,  forgetting  that  he  had  drained  the  contents 
long  ago.  Richard  formally  introduced  me  to  this 
personage  ;  who  was  no  less  a  man  than  Colonel  R., 
once  the  leader  of  the  party.  Instantly  the  Colonel, 
seizing  me.  in  the  absence  of  buttons,  by  the  leather 
fringes  of  my  frock,  began  to  define  his  position. 
His  men,  he  said,  had  mutinied  and  deposed  him  ; 
but  still  he  exercised  over  them  the  influence  of  a 
superior  mind  ;  in  all  but  the  name  he  was  yet  their 
chief.  As  the  Colonel  spoke,  1  looked  round  on  the 
wild  assemblage,  and  could  not  help  thinking  that 
he  was  but  ill  qualified  to  conduct  such  men  across 
the  deserts  to  California.  Conspicuous  among  the 
rest  stoqd  three  tall  young  men,  grandsons  of  Daniel 
Boone.  They  had  clearly  inherited  the  adventurous 
character  of  that  prince  of  pioneers,  but  I  saw  no 
signs  of  the  quiet  and  tranquil  spirit  that  so  remark- 
ably distinguished  him. 


142  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Fearful  was  the  fate  that  months  after  overtook 
some  of  the  members  of  that  party.  General 
Kearney,  on  his  late  return  from  California,  brought 
in  the  account  how  they  were  inteiTupted  by  the 
deep  snows  among  the  mountains,  and,  maddened 
by  cold  and  hunger,  fed  upon  each  other's  flesh  ! 

I  got  tired  of  the  confusion.  ' '  Come,  Paul, " "  said 
I,  "  we  will  be  off."'  Paul  sat  in  the  sun,  under  the 
wall  of  the  fort.  He  jumped  up,  mounted,  and  we 
rode  toward  Fort  Laramie.  When  we  reached  it.  a 
man  came  out  of  the  gate  with  a  pack  at  his  back 
and  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder  ;  others  were  gathering 
about  him,  shaking  him  by  the  hand,  as  if  taking 
leave.  I  thought  it  a  strange  thing  that  a  man 
should  set  out  alone  and  on  foot  for  the  prairie.  I 
soon  got  an  explanation.  Perrault — ^this,  if  I  recol- 
lect right,  was  the  Canadian's  name — ^had  quarrelled 
with  the  bouj'g£ois,  and  the  fort  was  too  hot  to  hold 
him.  Bordeaux,  inflated  with  his  transient  author- 
ity', had  abused  him,  and  received  a  blow  in  return. 
The  men  then  sprang  at  each  other,  and  grappled 
in  the  middle  of  the  fort.  Bordeaux  was  down  in 
an  instant,  at  the  mercy  of  the  incensed  Canadian  ; 
had  not  an  old  Indian,  the  brother  of  his  squaw, 
seized  hold  of  his  antagonist,  he  would  have  fared 
ill.  Perrault  broke  loose  from  the  old  Indian,  and 
both  the  white  men  ran  to  their  rooms  for  their 
guns  ;  but  when  Bordeaux,  looking  from  his  door, 
saw  the  Canadian,  gun  in  hand,  standing  in  the 
area  and  calling  on  him  to  come  out  and  tight,  his 
heart  failed  him  ;  he  chose  to  remain  where  he  was. 
In  vain  the  old  Indian,  scandalized  by  his  brother- 
in-law's  cowardice,  called  upon  him  to  go  upon  the 
prairie  and  fight  it  out  in  the  white  man's  manner  ; 
and  Bordeaux's  own  squaw,  equally  incensed, 
screamed  to  her  lord  and  master  that  he  was  a  dog 
and  an  old  woman.      It  all  availed  nothing.      Bor- 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  1 43 

deaux's  prudence  got  the  better  of  his  valor,  and  he 
would  not  stir.  Perrault  stood  showering  oppro- 
brious epithets  at  the  recreant  bourgeois.  Growing 
tired  of  this,  he  made  up  a  pack  of  dried  meat,  and 
slinging  it  at  his  back,  set  out  alone  for  Fort  Pierre, 
on  the  Missouri,  a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles, 
over  a  desert  country,  full  of  hostile  Indians. 

I  remained  in  the  fort  that  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing as  I  was  coming  out  from  breakfast,  conversing 
with  a  trader  named  McCluskey,  I  saw  a  strange 
Indian  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  gate.  He 
was  a  tall,  strong  man,  with  heavy  features. 

' '  Who  is  he  ?"  I  asked. 

•  •  That' s  the  Whirlwind, ' '  said  McCluskey.  "He 
is  the  fellow  that  made  all  this  stir  about  the  war. 
It's  always  the  way  with  the  Sioux  ;  they  never  stop 
cutting  each  other' s  throats  ;  it' s  all  they  are  fit  for  ; 
instead  of  sitting  in  their  lodges,  and  getting  robes 
to  trade  with  us  in  the  winter.  If  this  war  goes  on, 
we'll  make  a  poor  trade  of  it  next  season,  I 
reckon." 

And  this  was  the  opinion  of  all  the  traders,  who 
were  vehemently  opposed  to  the  war,  from  the 
serious  injury  that  it  must  occasion  to  their  interests. 
The  Whirlwind  left  his  village  the  day  before  to 
make  a  visit  to  the  fort.  His  warlike  ardor  had 
abated  not  a  little  since  he  first  conceived  the  de- 
sign of  avenging  his  son's  death.  The  long  and 
complicated  preparations  for  the  expedition  were 
too  much  for  his  fickle,  inconstant  disposition. 
That  morning  Bordeaux  fastened  upon  him,  made 
him  presents,  and  told  him  that  if  he  went  to  war 
he  would  destroy  his  horses  and  kill  no  buffalo  to 
trade  with  the  white  men  ;  in  short,  that  he  was  a 
fool  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  had  better  make 
up  his  mind  to  sit  quietly  in  his  lodge  and  smoke 
his  pipe,   like  a  w;se  man.      The  Whirlwind's  pur- 


144  THE    O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

pose  was  evidently  shaken  :  he  had  become  tired, 
like  a  child,  of  his  favorite  plan.  Bordeaux  exult- 
ingly  predicted  that  he  would  not  go  to  war.  My 
philanthropy  at  that  time  was  no  match  for  my 
curiosit)-,  and  I  was  vexed  at  the  possibilirv  that 
after  all  I  might  lose  the  rare  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  formidable  ceremonies  of  war.  The  Whirl- 
wind, however,  had  merely  thrown  the  firebrand  ; 
the  contlagration  was  become  general.  All  the 
western  bands  of  the  Dahcotah  were  bent  on  war  ; 
and  as  I  heard  from  McCluskey,  six  large  \-illages 
were  already  gathered  on  a  little  stream,  fort\-  miles 
distant,  and  were  daily  calhng  to  the  Great  Spirit  to 
aid  them  in  their  enterprise.  McCluskey  had  just 
left  them,  and  represented  them  as  on  their  way  to 
La  Bonte's  camp,  which  they  would  reach  in  a 
week,  unless  they  should  learn  that  there  were  no 
buffalo  there.  1  did  not  like  this  condition,  for 
buffalo  this  season  were  rare  in  the  neighborhood. 
There  were  also  the  tvvo  Minnicongew  tillages  that 
I  mentioned  before  ;  but  about  noon  an  Indian  came 
fi-om  Richard's  fort  with  the  news  that  they  were 
quarrelling,  breaking  up,  and  dispersing.  So  much 
for  the  whiskey  of  the  emigrants  !  Finding  them- 
selves unable  to  drink  the  whole,  they  had  sold  the 
residue  to  these  Indians,  and  it  needed  no  prophet 
to  foretell  the  result  :  a  spark  dropped  into  a  powder- 
magazine  would  not  have  produced  a  quicker  effect. 
Instantly  the  old  jealousies  and  rivalries  and  smoth- 
ered feuds  that  exist  in  an  Indian  ^"illage  broke  out 
into  furious  quarrels.  They  forgot  the  warUke  en- 
terprise that  had  already  brought  them  three  hun- 
dred mUes.  They  seemed  like  imgovemed  chil- 
dren inflamed  with  the  fiercest  passions  of  men. 
Several  of  them  were  stabbed  in  the  drunken 
tumult  :  and  in  the  morning  they  scattered  and 
moved  back  toward  the  Missouri  in  small  parties. 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  I45 

I  feared  that,  after  all,  the  long-projected  meeting 
and  the  ceremonies  that  were  to  attend  it  might 
never  take  place,  and  I  should  lose  so  admirable  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  Indian  under  his  most 
fearful  and  characteristic  aspect ;  however,  in  fore- 
going this,  I  should  avoid  a  ver\-  fair  probability  of 
being  plundered  and  stripped,  and,  it  might  be, 
stabbed  or  shot  into  the  bargain.  Consoling  myself 
with  this  reflection,  I  prepared  to  earn,-  the  news, 
such  as  it  was,  to  the  camp. 

I  caught  my  horse,  and  to  my  vexation  found  he 
had  lost  a  shoe  and  broken  his  tender  white  hoof 
against  the  rocks.  Horses  are  shod  at  Fort  Lara- 
mie at  the  moderate  rate  of  three  dollars  a  foot ;  so 
I  tied  Hendrick  to  a  beam  in  the  corral,  and  sum- 
moned Roubidou,  the  blacksmith.  Roubidou,  with 
the  hoof  between  his  knees,  was  at  work  with  ham- 
mer and  file,  and  I  was  inspecting  the  process, 
when  a  strange  voice  addressed  me. 

"Two  more  gone  under  1  Well,  there  is  more 
of  us  left  yet.  Here's  Jean  Gras  and  me  off  to  the 
mountains  to-morrow.  Our  turn  will  come  next,  I 
suppose.      It's  a  hard  life,  anyhow  I" 

I  looked  up  and  saw  a  little  man,  not  much  more 
than  five  feet  high,  but  of  ven.-  square  and  strong 
proportions.  In  appearance  he  was  particularly 
dingy  ;  for  his  old  buckskin  frock  was  black  and 
polished  with  time  and  grease,  and  his  belt,  knife, 
pouch,  and  powder-horn  appeared  to  have  seen  the 
roughest  service.  The  first  joint  of  each  foot  was 
entirely  gone,  having  been  frozen  oft'  several  winters 
before,  and  his  moccasons  were  curtailed  in  propor- 
tion. His  whole  appearance  and  equipment  bespoke 
the  "free  trapper."  He  had  a  round  ruddy  face, 
animated  with  a  spirit  of  carelessness  and  gayety 
not  at  all  in  accordance  with  the  words  he  had  just 
spoken. 

10 


146 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


"'Two  more  gone,'"  said  I;  "what  do  you 
mean  by  that  ?' ' 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  the  Arapahoes  have  just  killed 
two  of  us  in  the  mountains.  Old  Bull-Tail  has 
come  to  tell  us.  They  stabbed  one  behind  his  back, 
and  shot  the  other  with  his  own  rifle.  That' s  the 
way  we  live  here  I  1  mean  to  give  up  trapping  after 
this  year.  My  squaw  says  she  wants  a  pacing  horse 
and  some  red  ribbons  :  I'll  make  enough  beaver 
to  get  them  for  her,  and  then  I'm  done  !  I'll  go 
below  and  live  on  a  farm." 

"Your  bones  will  dr}-  on  the  prairie,  Rouleau  !" 
said  another  trapper,  who  was  standing  by  ;  a  strong, 
brutal-looking  fellow,  wth  a  face  as  surly  as  a  bull- 
dog's. 

Rouleau  only  laughed,  and  began  to  hum  a  tune 
and  shuffle  a  dance  on  his  stumps  of  feet. 

"You'll  see  us,  before  long,  passing  up  your 
way, ' '  said  the  other  man. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "stop  and  take  a  cup  of  coffee 
•with  us  ;"  and  as  it  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon, 
I  prepared  to  leave  the  fort  at  once. 

As  I  rode  out  a  train  of  emigrant  wagons  was 
passing  across  the  stream.  "  \Miar  are  ye  goin', 
stranger  ?' '  Thus  I  was  saluted  by  two  or  three 
voices  at  once. 

"About  eighteen  miles  up  the  creek." 

"It's  mighty  late  to  be  going  that  far!  Make 
haste,  ye'd  better,  and  keep  a  bright  lookout  for 
Indians  !" 

I  thought  the  advice  too  good  to  be  neglected. 
Fording  the  stream,  I  passed  at  a  round  trot  over 
the  plains  beyond.  But  ' '  the  more  haste,  the  worse 
speed. ' '  I  proved  the  truth  of  the  proverb  by  the 
time  I  reached  the  hills  three  miles  from  the  fort. 
The  trail  was  faintly  marked,  and  riding  forward 
with  more  rapidit)*  than  caution,  I  lost  sight  of  it. 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  1 47 

I  kept  on  in  a  direct  line,  guided  by  Laramie  Creek, 
which  I  could  see  at  intervals  darkly  glistening  in 
the  evening  sun,  at  the  bottom  of  the  woody  gulf 
on  my  right.  Half  an  hour  before  sunset  1  came 
upon  its  banks.  There  was  something  exciting  in 
the  wild  solitude  of  the  place.  An  antelope  sprang 
suddenly  from  the  sage  bushes  before  me.  As  he 
leaped  gracefully  not  thirty  yards  before  my  horse, 
1  fired,  and  instantly  he  spun  round  and  fell.  Quite 
sure  of  him,  I  walked  my  horse  toward  him,  leisurely 
reloading  my  rifle,  when,  to  my  surprise,  he  sprang 
up  and  trotted  rapidly  away  on  three  legs  into  the 
dark  recesses  of  the  hills,  whither  I  had  no  time  to 
follow.  Ten  minutes  after,  I  was  passing  along  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  valley,  and  chancing  to  look 
behind  me,  I  saw  in  the  dim  light  that  something 
was  following.  Supposing  it  to  be  a  wolf,  I  slid 
from  my  seat  and  sat  down  behind  my  horse  to 
shoot  it ;  but  as  it  came  up,  I  saw  by  its  motions 
that  it  was  another  antelope.  It  approached  within 
a  hundred  yards,  arched  its  graceful  neck,  and 
gazed  intently.  I  levelled  at  the  white  spot  on  its 
chest,  and  was  about  to  fire,  when  it  started  off,  ran 
first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  like  a  vessel 
tacking  aga,inst  a  wind,  and  at  last  stretched  away 
at  full  speed.  Then  it  stopped  again,  looked 
curiously  behind  it,  and  trotted  up  as  before  ;  but 
not  so  boldly,  for  it  soon  paused  and  stood  gazing 
at  me.  I  fired  ;  it  leaped  upward  and  fell  upon  its 
tracks.  Measuring  the  distance,  I  found  it  two 
hundred  and  four  paces.  When  I  stood  by  his  side, 
the  antelope  turned  his  expiring  eye  upward.  It 
was  like  a  beautiful  woman's,  dark  and  rich. 
"  Fortunate  that  I  am  in  a  hurry,"  thought  I  ;  "I 
might  be  troubled  with  remorse,  if  I  had  time  for 
it." 

Cutting  the  animal  up,  not  in  the  most    skilful 


148  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

manner,  I  hung  the  meat  at  the  back  of  my  saddle, 
and  rode  on  again.  The  hills  (I  could  not  remem' 
ber  one  of  them)  closed  around  me.  "It  is  too 
late,"  thought  1,  "to  go  fonvard.  I  viill  stay  here 
to-night,  and  look  for  the  path  in  the  morning.". 
As  a  last  effort,  however,  I  ascended  a  high  hill, 
from  which,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  I  could  see 
Laramie  Creek  stretching  before  me,  tv^-isting  from 
side  to  side  amid  ragged  patches  of  timber  ;  and  far 
off,  close  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  trees,  the  ruins 
of  the  old  trading-fort  were  visible.  I  reached  them 
at  twihght.  It  was  far  from  pleasant,  in  that  un- 
certain light,  to  be  pushing  through  the  dense  trees 
and  shrubber\-  of  the  grove  beyond.  I  listened 
anxiously  for  the  foot-fall  of  man  or  beast.  Nothing 
was  stirring  but  one  harmless  brown  bird,  chirping 
among  the  branches.  1  was  glad  when  1  gained  the 
open  prairie  once  more,  where  I  could  see  if  any- 
thing approached.  WTien  I  came  to  the  mouth  of 
Chugwater  it  was  totally  dark.  Slackening  the 
reins,  I  let  my  horse  take  his  own  course.  He 
trotted  on  with  unerring  instinct,  and  by  nine 
o'clock  was  scrambling  down  the  steep  descent  into 
the  meadows  where  we  were  encamped.  While  I 
was  looking  in  vain  for  the  light  of  the  fire,  Hen- 
drick,  •with  keener  perceptions,  gave  a  loud  neigh, 
which  was  immediately  answered  in  a  shrill  note 
from  the  distance.  In  a  moment  I  was  hailed  from 
the  darkness  by  the  voice  of  Reynal,  who  had  come 
out,  rifle  in  hand,  to  see  Avho  was  approaching. 

He,  with  his  squaw,  the  t^vo  Canadians,  and  the 
Indian  boys,  were  the  sole  inmates  of  the  camp, 
Shaw  and  Henr\-  Chatillon  being  still  absent.  At 
noon  of  the  folio-wing  day  they  came  back,  their 
horses  looking  none  the  better  for  the  journey. 
Henry  seemed  dejected.  The  woman  was  dead, 
and   his  children  must  henceforward  be  exposed, 

UBRABT  OF 
H.  C.  STATE  COLLEflB 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  1 49 

without  a  protector,  to  the  hardships  and  vicissitudes 
of  Indian  life.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  grief  he  had 
not  forgotten  his  attachment  to  his  bourgeois,  for  he 
had  procured  among  his  Indian  relatives  two  beauti- 
fully ornamented  buffalo-robes,  which  he  spread  on 
the  ground  as  a  present  to  us. 

Shaw  lighted  his  pipe,  and  told  me  in  a  few  words 
the  histor%-  of  his  journey.  When  I  went  to  the  fort 
they  left  me,  as  I  mentioned,  at  the  mouth  of 
Chugwater.  They  followed  the  course  of  the  little 
stream  all  day,  traversing  a  desolate  and  barren 
countr)-.  Several  times  they  came  upon  the  fresh 
traces  of  a  large  war-party,  the  same,  no  doubt, 
from  whom  we  had  so  narrowly  escaped  an  attack. 
At  an  hour  before  sunset,  without  encountering  a 
human  being  by  the  way,  they  came  upon  the 
lodges  of  the  squaw  and  her  brothers,  who,  in  com- 
pliance with  Henry's  message,  had  left  the  Indian 
village,  in  order  to  join  us  at  our  camp.  The  lodges 
were  already  pitched,  five  in  number,  by  the  side 
of  the  stream.  The  woman  lay  in  one  of  them, 
reduced  to  a  mere  skeleton.  For  some  time  she 
had  been  unable  to  move  or  speak.  Indeed,  noth- 
ing had  kept  her  alive  but  the  hope  of  seeing  Henry, 
to  whom  she  was  strongly  and  fiiithfully  attached. 
No  sooner  did  he  enter  the  lodge  than  she  revived, 
and  conversed  with  him  the  greater  part  of  the 
night.  Early  in  the  morning  she  was  lifted  into  a 
travail,  and  the  whole  party  set  out  toward  our 
camp.  There  were  but  five  warriors  :  the  rest  were 
women  and  children.  The  whole  were  in  great 
alarm  at  the  proximity  of  the  Crow  war-party, "who 
would  certainly  have  destroyed  them  without  mercy 
had  they  met.  They  had  advanced  only  a  mile  or 
two  when  they  discerned  a  horseman,  far  off,  on  the 
edge  of  the  horizon.  They  all  stopped,  gathering 
together  in  the  greatest  anxiety,  from  which  they 


150  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

did  not  recover  until  long  after  the  horseman  disap- 
peared ;  then  they  set  out  again.  Henr\-  was 
riding  with  Shaw,  a  few  rods  in  advance  of  the  In- 
dians, when  Mahto-Tatonka,  a  younger  brother  of 
the  woman,  hastily  called  after  them.  Turning 
back,  they  foimd  all  the  Indians  crowded  around 
the  travail  in  which  the  woman  was  hing.  They 
reached  her  just  in  time  to  hear  the  death- 
ratde  in  her  throat.  In  a  moment  she  lay  dead 
in  the  basket  of  the  vehicle.  A  complete  stOl- 
ness  succeeded ;  then  the  Indians  raised  in  con- 
cert their  cries  of  lamentation  over  the  corpse,  and 
among  them  Shaw  clearly  distinguished  those 
strange  sounds  resembling  the  word  "  HaUeluyah." 
which,  together  with  some  other  accidental  coinci- 
dences, has  given  rise  to  the  absurd  theorj-  that 
the  Indians  are  descended  from  the  ten  lost  tribes 
of  Israel. 

The  Indian  usage  required  that  Henr\-.  as  weU  as 
the  other  relatives  of  the  woman,  should  make  val- 
uable presents,  to  be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  body 
at  its  last  resting-place.  Leaving  the  Indians,  he 
and  Shaw  set  out  for  the  camp  and  reached  it,  as 
we  have  seen,  by  hard  pushing,  at  about  noon. 
Ha\-ing  obtained  the  necessar\-  articles,  they  imme- 
diately returned.  It  was  ver\-  late  and  quite  dark 
when  they  again  reached  the  lodges.  They  were 
aU  placed  in  a  deep  hollow  among  the  dreary  hiUs. 
Four  of  them  were  just  visible  through  the  gloom, 
but  the  fifth  and  largest  was  illuminated  by  the  ruddy 
blaze  of  a  fire  within,  glowing  through  the  half- 
tiansparent  covering  of  raw -hides.  There  was  a 
perfect  stillness  as  they  approached.  The  lodges 
seemed  without  a  tenant.  Not  a  UWng  thing  was 
stirring — there  was  something  aw-ful  in  the  scene. 
They  rode  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  lodge,  and 
there  was  no  sound  but  the  tramp  of  their  horses. 


THE    WAR-PARTIES.  151 

A  squaw  came  out  and  took  charge  of  the  animals, 
without  speaking  a  word.  Entering,  they  found 
the  lodge  crowded  with  Indians  ;  a  fire  was  burning 
in  the  midst,  and  the  mourners  encircled  it  in  a 
triple  row.  Room  was  made  for  the  new-comers  at 
the  head  of  the  lodge,  a  robe  spread  for  them  to  sit 
upon,  and  a  pipe  lighted  and  handed  to  them  in 
perfect  silence.  Thus  they  passed  the  greater  part 
of  the  night.  At  times  the  fire  would  subside  into 
a  heap  of  embers,  until  the  dark  figures  seated 
around  it  were  scarcely  visible  ;  then  a  squaw  would 
drop  upon  it  a  piece  of  buffalo-fat,  and  a  bright 
flame,  instantly  springing  up,  would  reveal  on  a 
sudden  the  crowd  of  wild  faces,  motionless  as 
bronze.  The  silence  continued  unbroken.  It  was 
a  relief  to  Shaw  when  daylight  returned  and  he 
could  escape  from  this  house  of  mourning.  He  and 
Henr)-  prepared  to  return  homeward  ;  first,  how- 
ever, they  placed  the  presents  they  had  brought 
near  the  body  of  the  squaw,  which,  most  gaudily 
attired,  remained  in  a  sitting  posture  in  one  of  the 
lodges.  A  fine  horse  was  picketed  not  far  off,  des- 
tined to  be  killed  that  morning  for  the  service  of  her 
spirit,  for  the  woman  was  lame,  and  could  not  travel 
on  foot  over  the  dismal  prairies  to  the  villages  of  the 
dead.  Food,  too,  was  provided,  and  household  im- 
plements, for  her  use  upon  this  last  journey. 

Henr)-  left  her  to  the  care  of  her  relatives,  and 
came  immediately  with  Shaw  to  the  camp.  It  was 
some  time  before  he  entirely  recovered  from  his 
dejection. 


V 


CHAPTER    XI. 

SCENES    AT    THE    C.V.rp. 


*■  Fierce  are  A'  -   r  .  vet  --hey  lack 

Not  virtnes.  wcr  ■  "; re  mature ; 

Where  is  the  foe  :  :  back? 

Who  can  so  well  :       '.  :-"    r.dore?" 

Chllde  Harold. 

Reynal  heard  guns  fired  one  day  at  the  distance 
of  a  mile  or  two  from  the  camp.  He  grew  nervius 
instantly.  Visions  of  Crow  war-parties  began  to 
haunt  his  imagination  ;  and  when  we  returned  (for 
we  were  aU  absent)  he  renewed  his  complaints 
about  being  left  alone  with  the  Canadians  and  the 
squaw.  The  day  after  the  cause  of  the  alarm  ap- 
peared. Four  trappers,  one  called  Moran.  another 
Saraphin.  and  the  others  nicknamed  ' '  Rouleau 
and  "Jean  Gras,"'  came  to  our  camp  and  joined 
us.  They  it  was  who  fired  the  guns  and  disturbed 
the  dreams  of  our  confederate  Re\"nal-  They  soon 
encamped  by  our  side.  Their  rifles,  ding\-  and 
battereid  with  hard  senice,  rested  with  ours  against 
the  old  tree  ;  their  strong,  rude  saddles,  their  buffalo- 
robes,  their  traps,  and  the  few  rough  and  simple 
articles  of  their  travelling  equipment  were  piled 
near  our  tent.  Their  mountain-horses  were  turned 
to  graze  in  the  meadow  among  our  own  ;  and  the 
men  themselves,  no  less  rough  and  hardy,  used  to 
lie  half  the  day  in  the  shade  of  our  tree,  loUing  on 
the  grass,  lazily  smoking,  and  telling  stories  of  their 
adventures ;  and  I  def>-  the  annals  of  chi\-alr\'  to 
fiimish  the  record  of  a  life  more  wiH-aBd-perilous 
than  that  of  a  Rocky  Moimtain  trapper. 

With  this  efficient  reinforcement  the  agitation  of 
Revnal's  nenes  subsided.      He  beran  to  conceive 


V 


SCENES  AT   THE    CAMP.  I  53 

a  sort  of  attachment  to  our  old  camping-ground  ;  yet 
it  was  time  to  change  our  quarters,  since  remaining 
too  long  on  one  spot  must  lead  to  certain  unpleasant 
results,  not  to  be  borne  with  unless  in  a  case  of  dire 
necessity.  The  grass  no  longer  presented  a  smooth 
surface  of  turf;  it  was  trampled  into  mud  and  clay. 
So  we  removed  to  another  old  tree,  larger  yet,  that 
grew  by  the  river  side  at  a  furlong's  distance.  Its 
trunk  was  full  si.x  feet  in  diameter  ;  on  one  side  it 
was  marked  by  a  party  of  Indians  with  various  inex- 
plicable hieroglyphics,  commemorating  some  war- 
like enterprise,  and  aloft  among  the  branches  were 
the  remains  of  a  scaffolding,  where  dead  bodies  had 
once  been  deposited,  after  the  Indian  manner. 

"There  comes  Bull-Bear,"  said  Henrj- Chatillon, 
as  we  sat  on  the  grass  at  dinner.  Looking  up,  we  saw 
several  horsemen  coming  over  the  neighboring  hill, 
and  in  a  moment  four  stately  young  men  rode  up 
and  dismounted.  One  of  them  was  Bull-Bear,  or 
Mahto-Tatonka,  a  compound  name  which  he  in- 
herited from  his  father,  the  most  powerful  chief  in 
the  Ogillallah  band.  One  of  his  brothers  and  two 
other  young  men  accompanied  him.  We  shook 
hands  with  the  visitors,  and  when  we  had  finished 
vQiir  meal — for  this  is  the  orthodox  manner  of  enter- 
tainingTndians,  even  the  best  of  them — we  handed 
to  each  a  tin  cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit,  at  which 
they  ejaculated  from  the  bottom  of  their  throats, 
"  How  !  how  !"  a  monosyllable  by  which  an  Indian 
contrives  to  express  half  the  emotions  that  he  is 
susceptible  of.  Then  we  lighted  the  pipe,  and 
passed  it  to  them  as  they  squatted  on  the  ground. 

' '  Where  is  the  village  ?' ' 

"There,"  said  Mahto-Tatonka,  pointing  south' 
ward  ;   "it  will  come  in  two  days." 

' '  Will  they  go  to  the  war  X ' 

"Yes." 


154  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

No  man  is  a  philanthropist  on  the  prairie.  We 
welcomed  this  news  most  cordially,  and  congratu- 
lated ourselves  that  Bordeaux's  interested  efforts  to 
divert  the  WTiirlwind  from  his  congenial  vocation 
of  bloodshed  had  failed  of  success,  and  that  no  addi- 
tional obstacles  would  interpose  between  us  and  our 
plan  of  repairing  to  the  rendezvous  at  La  Bonte's 
camp. 

For  that  and  several  succeeding  days  Mahto- 
Tatonka  and  his  friends  remained  our  guests.  They 
devoured  the  relics  of  our  meals  ;  they  filled  the 
pipe  for  us,  and  also  helped  us  to  smoke  it.  Some- 
times they  stretched  themselves  side  by  side  in  the 
shade,  indulging  in  raillery  and  practical  jokes,  ill 
becoming  the  dignity  of  bra\e  and  aspiring  warriors, 
such  as  two  of  them  in  realit)-  were. 

Two  days  dragged  away,  and  on  the  morning  of 
the  third  we  hoped  confidently  to  see  the  Indian 
village.  It  did  not  come  ;  so  we  rode  out  to  look 
for  it.  In  place  of  the  eight  hundred  Indians  we 
expected,  we  met  one  solitan-  savage  riding  toward 
us  over  the  prairie,  who  told  us  that  the  Indians  had 
changed  their  plan,  and  would  not  come  within 
three  days  ;  still  he  persisted  that  they  were  going 
to  the  war.  Taking  along  with  us  this  messenger 
of  evil  tidings,  we  retraced  our  footsteps  to  the 
camp,  amusing  ourselves  by  the  way  with  execrating 
Indian  inconstancy.  When  we  came  in  sight  of  our 
little  white  tent  under  the  big  tree  we  saw  that  it  no 
longer  stood  alone.  A  huge  old  lodge  was  erected 
close  by  its  side,  discolored  by  rain  and  storms, 
rotten  with  age,  with  the  uncouth  figures  of  horses 
and  men,  and  outstretched  hands  that  were  painted 
upon  it,  wellnigh  obliterated.  The  long  poles  which 
supported  this  squalid  habitation  thrust  themselves 
rakishly  out  from  its  pointed  top,  and  over  its  en- 
trance   were    suspended    a    "medicine-pipe"    and 


SCENES  AT  THE    CAMP.  I55 

various  other  implements  of  the  magic  art.  While 
we  were  yet  at  a  distance  we  observed  a  greatly 
increased  population,  of  various  colors  and  dimen- 
sions, swarming  around  our  quiet  encampment. 
RIoran,  the  trapper,  having  been  absent  for  a  day 
or  two,  had  returned,  it  seemed,  bringing  all  his 
family  with  him.  He  had  taken  to  himself  a  wife, 
for  whom  he  had  paid  the  estabhshed  price  of  one 
horse.  This  looks  cheap  at  tirst  sight ;  but  in  truth 
the  purchase  of  a  squaw  is  a  transaction  which  no 
man  should  enter  into  without  mature  deliberation, 
since  it  involves  not  only  the  payment  of  the  first 
price,  but  the  formidable  burden  of  feeding  and 
supporting  a  rapacious  horde  of  the  bride"  s  relatives, 
who  hold  themselves  entitled  to  feed  upon  the  indis- 
creet white  man.  They  gather  round  like  leeches 
and  drain  him  of  all  he  has. 

Moran,  like  Reynal,  had  not  alhed  himself  to 
an  aristocratic  circle.  His  relatives  occupied  but 
a  contemptible  position  in  Ogillallah  society  ;  for 
among  these  wild  democrats  of  the  prairie,  as  among 
us,  there  are  virtual  distinctions  of  rank  and  place  ; 
though  this  great  advantage  they  have  over  us.  that 
wealth  has  no  part  in  determining  such  distinctions. 
IMoran's  partner  was  not  the  most  beautiful  of  her 
sex,  and  he  had  the  exceedingly  bad  taste  to  array 
her  in  an  old  calico  gown,  bought  from  an  emigrant 
woman,  instead  of  the  neat  and  graceful  tunic  of 
whitened  deer-skin  worn  ordinarily  by  the  squaws. 
The  moving  spirit  of  the  establishment,  in  more 
senses  than  one,  was  a  hideous  old  hag  of  eighty. 
Human  imagination  never  conceived  hobgobhn  or 
witch  more  ugly  than  she.  You  could  count  all  her 
ribs  through  the  wrinkles  of  the  leather^-  skin  that 
covered  them.  Her  withered  face  more  resembled 
an  old  skull  than  the  countenance  of  a  living  being. 
even  to  the  hollow,  darkened  sockets,  at  the  bottom 


156  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

of  which  ghttered  her  httle  black  eyes.  Her  arms 
had  dwindled  away  into  nothing  but  whip-cord  and 
wire.  Her  hair,  half  black,  half  gray,  hung  in  total 
neglect  nearly  to  the  ground,  and  her  sole  garment 
consisted  of  the  remnant  of  a  discarded  buffalo-robe 
tied  round  her  waist  with  a  string  of  hide.  Yet  the 
old  squaw's  meagre  anatomy  was  wonderfully  strong. 
She  pitched  the  lodge,  packed  the  horses,  and  cm 
the  hardest  labor  of  the  camp.  From  morning  till 
night  she  bustled  about  the  lodge,  screaming  like  a 
screech-owl  when  anything  displeased  her.  Then 
there  was  her  brother,  a  "medicine-man,"  or 
magician,  equally  gaunt  and  sinewy  wvCa.  herself. 
His  mouth  spread  from  ear  to  ear,  and  his  appetite, 
as  we  had  full  occasion  to  learn,  was  ravenous  in 
proportion.  The  other  inmates  of  the  lodge  were  a 
young  bride  and  bridegroom  ;  the  latter  one  of  those 
idle,  good-for-nothing  fellows  who  infest  an  Indian 
village  as  well  as  more  civilized  communities.  He 
was  fit  neither  for  hunting  nor  for  war  ;  and  one 
might  infer  as  much  from  the  stolid,  unmeaning 
expression  of  his  face.  The  happy  pair  had  just 
entered  upon  the  honeymoon.  They  would  stretch 
a  buffalo-robe  upon  poles,  so  as  to  protect  them 
from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun,  and  spreading  be- 
neath this  rough  canopy  a  luxuriant  couch  of  furs, 
would  sit  affectionately  side  by  side  for  half  the  day, 
though  I  could  not  discover  that  much  conversation 
passed  between  them.  Probably  they  had  nothing 
to  say  ;  for  an  Indian's  supply  of  topics  for  conver- 
sation is  far  from  being  copious.  There  were  half 
a  dozen  children,  too,  playing  and  whooping  about 
the  camp,  shooting  birds  with  little  bows  and  arrows, 
or  making  miniature  lodges  of  sticks,  as  children  of 
a  different  complexion  build  houses  of  blocks. 

A  day  passed  and  Indians  began  rapidly  to  come 
in.     Parties  of  two  or  three  or  more  w  ould  ride  up 


/ 


SCENES  AT   THE   CAMP.  I  57 

and  silently  seat  themselves  on  the  grass.  The 
fourth  day  came  at  last,  when  about  noon  horsemen 
suddenly  appeared  into  view  on  the  summit  of  the 
neighboring  ridge.  They  descended,  and  behind 
them  followed  a  wild  procession,  hurr)'ing  in  haste 
and  disorder  down  the  hill  and  over  the  plain  below  : 
horses,  mules,  and  dogs,  heavily  burdened  t7-avaux, 
mounted  warriors,  squaws  walking  amid  the  throng, 
and  a  host  of  children.  For  a  full  half-hour  they 
continued  to  pour  down  ;  and  keeping  directly  to 
the  bend  of  the  stream,  within  a  furlong  of  us, 
they  soon  assembled  there,  a  dark  and  confused 
throng,  until,  as  if  by  magic,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
tall  lodges  sprung  up.  On  a  sudden  the  lonely  plain 
was  transformed  into  the  site  of  a  miniature  city. 
Countless  horses  were  soon  grazing  over  the  mead- 
ows around  us,  and  the  whole  prairie  was  animated 
by  restless  figures  careering  on  horseback  or  sedately 
stalking  in  their  long  white  robes.  The  Whirlwind 
was  come  at  last  !  One  question  yet  remained  to 
be  answered  :  ' '  Will  he  go  to  the  war,  in  order  that 
we,  with  so  respectable  an  escort,  may  pass  over  to 
the  somewhat  perilous  rendezvous  at  La  Bonte's 
camp  ?' ' 

Still  this  remained  in  doubt.  Characteristic  in- 
decision perplexed  their  councils.  Indians  cannot 
act  in  large  bodies.  Though  their  object  be  of  the 
highest  importance,  they  cannot  combine  to  attain 
it  by  a  series  of  connected  efforts.  King  Philip, 
Pontiac,  and  Tecumseh,  all  felt  this  to  their  cost. 
The  Ogillallah  once  had  a  war-chief  who  could  con- 
trol them,  btit  he  was  dead,  and  now  they  were  left 
to  the  sway  of  their  own  unsteady  impulses. 

This  Indian  village  and  its  inhabitants  will  hold  a 
prominent  place  in  the  rest  of  the  narrative,  and 
perhaps  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  glance  for  an  instant 
at  the  savage  people  of  which   they  form  a   part. 


158  THE    CREGOX  TRAIL. 

The  Dahcolali  (I  prefer  this  national  designation  to 
die  unmeaning  French  name,  Sioux)  range  over  a 
vast  tenitDTy.  from  the  river  St.  Peter's  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains  tliemselves.  They  are  divided 
into  several  independent  bands,  united  under  no 
central  government  and  acknowledging  no  common 
head.  The  same  language,  usages,  and  superstitions 
form  tlie  sole  bond  between  them.  They  do  not 
unite  even  in  thdr  wars.  The  bands  of  the  east 
fight  the  Objibwas  on  the  Upper  Lakes ;  those  (rf' 
the  'vcSi  make  incessant  war  upon  the  Snake  Indians 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  As  the  whole  people  is 
divided  into  bands,  so  each  band  is  di\'ided  into 
villages.  Each  village  has  a  chief,  who  is  honored 
and  obeyed  only  so  iss  as  his  personal  qualities  may 
command  respect  and  fear.  Som^imes  he  is  a 
mere  nominal  chirf;  sometimes  his  authority'  is 
litde  short  <rf  absolute,  and  his  fame  and  influence 
reach  even  beyond  his  own  village  :  so  that  the 
whole  band  to  which  he  belongs  is  ready  to  acknowl- 
edge him  as  thar  head.  This  was,  a  few  years 
ance,  the  case  with  the  Ogillallah .  Courage,  ad- 
dress, and  enterprise  may  raise  any  warrior  to  the 
highest  honor,  especially  if  he  be  the  son  of  a 
former  chief,  or  a  member  of  a  numerous  &mily.  to 
support  him  and  avenge  Ids  quarrels  ;  but  when  he 
has  reached  the  dignity  vS.  chief,  and  the  old  men 
and  warriors,  by  a  peculiar  ceremony,  have  formally 
installed  him,  let  it  not  be  imagined  that  he  assumes 
any  of  the  outward  semblances  of  rank  and  honor. 
He  knows  too  well  on  how  fiail  a  tenure  he  holds 
his  station.  He  must  conoliate  his  uncertain  sub- 
jects. Many  a  man  in  the  village  lives  better, 
owns  more  squaws  and  more  horses,  and  goes  better 
dad  than  he.  Like  the  Teutonic  chiefs  of  old,  he 
ingratiates  himself  with  his  young  men  by  making 
diem  presents,  thereby  often  impoverishing  himself. 


SCENES  AT   THE    CAMP.  I  59 

Does  he  fail  in  gaining  their  favor,  they  will  set  his 
authority  at  naught,  and  may  desert  him  at  any 
moment  ;  for  the  usages  of  his  people  have  provided 
no  sanctions  by  which  he  may  enforce  his  authority. 
\er\  seldom  does  it  happen,  at  least  among  these 
western  bands,  that  a  chief  attains  to  much  power, 
unless  he  is  the  head  of  a  numerous  family.  Fre- 
quently the  village  is  principally  made  up  of  his 
relatives  and  descendants,  and  the  wandering  com- 
munity assumes  much  of  the  patriarchal  character. 
A  people  so  loosely  united,  torn,  too,  with  rankling 
feuds  and  jealousies,  can  have  little  power  or  effi- 
ciency. 

The  western  Dahcotah  have  no  fixed  habitations. 
Hunting  and  fighting,  they  wander  incessantly, 
through  summer  and  winter.  Some  are  following 
the  herds  of  buffalo  over  the  waste  of  prairie  ; 
others  are  traversing  the  Black  Hills,  thronging,  on 
horseback  and  on  foot,  through  the  dark  gulfs  and 
sombre  gorges,  beneath  the  vast  splintering  preci- 
pices,  and  emerging   at   last    upon    the   "Parks," 

j         tjiose  beautiful  but  most  perilous  hunting-grounds. 

I  \^/^he  buffalo  supplies,  them  with  almost  all  the  neces- 

t'  saries  of  life  ;  with  habitations,  food,  clothing,  and 
fuel  ;  with  strings  for  their  bows,  with  thread,  cord- 
age, and  trail-ropes  for  their  horses,  with  coverings 
for  their  saddles,  with  vessels  to  hold  water,  with 
boats  to  cross  streams,  with  glue,  and  with  the 
means  of  purchasing  all  that  they  desire  from  the 
traders.  When  the  buffalo  are  extinct,  they  too  must 
dwindle  away. 

War Js^the  breath  of  their  nostrils.  Against  most 
oFlHe  neighboring  ~trr5es"~They  ctierish   a  deadly, 

t  rancorous  hatred,  transmitted  from  father  to  son, 
and  inflamed  by  constant  aggression  and  retaliation. 
Many  times  a  year,  in  every  village,  the  Great 
Spirit  is  called  upon,  fasts  are  made,  the  war-parade 


l6o  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

is  cddnated.  and  the  waiiioia>  go  out  by  handfuls  at 
a  time  against  the  enemy.  This  fierce  and  evil 
^iiit  awakois  tfaeir  most  eager  aspirations  and  calls 
forth  their  greatest  energies.  It  is  chiefly  this  that 
saves  them  from  lethargy  and  utter  abasement. 
Without  its  powerful  stimulus  they  would  be  like  the 
unwaiiike  tribes  beyond  the  mountains,  who  are 
scattered  among  the  caves  and  rocks  hke  beasts, 
living  on  toots  and  rqitiles.  These  latter  have  little 
tA  humanity  except  the  fonn  ;  but  the  proud  and 
ambitious  Dahcotah  wairior  can  sometimes  boast  of 
heroic  virtues.  It  is  very  seldom  that  distinction 
and  influence  are  attained  among  them  by  any  other 
course  than  that  of  arms.  Their  superstition,  how- 
ever, sometimes  gives  great  power  to  those  among 
diem  who  pretend  to  the  character  of  magicians. 
Their  wild  hearts,  too,  can  feel  the  power  of  orator>', 
and  yield  deference  to  the  masters  of  it. 

But  to  return.  Lodt  into  our  tent,  or  enter,  if 
you  can  bear  Ae  stifling  smt^e  and  the  close  atmos- 
phere. Thoe.  we^;ed  close  togedier,  you  will  see 
a  circle  of  stout  warriors  pasang  the  [Hpe  aivmnd, 
jotdng.  telling  stories,  and  making  themselves 
merry,  after  their  Cishion.  We  were  also  infested 
by  tittle  cc^per-colored  naked  boys  and  snake-eved 
g^rls.  They  would  come  up  to  us  muttering  certain 
words,  which,  bang  interpreted,  conveyed  the  con- 
cise invitation,  '^jZome  and  gt-_^  Then  we  would 
rise,  cursing  thepertmacityof  Dahcotah  hospitahty, 
which  allowed  scarcely  an  hour  of  rest  between  sun 
and  sun,  and  to  which  we  were  bound  to  do  honor. 
imless  we  would  offend  our  entertainers.  This 
necessit}'  was  particularly  burdensome  to  me,  as  I 
was  scarcely  able  to  walk  from  the  effects  of  illness, 
and  was,  of  course,  pooriy  qualified  to  dispose  of 
twenty  meals  a  day.  Of  these  sumptuous  banquets, 
I  gave  a  ^lecimen  in  a  fiormer  chapter,  where  the 


SCENES  AT   THE    CAMP.  l6l 

tragical  fate  of  the  little  dog  was  chronicled.  So 
bounteous  an  entertainment  looks  like  an  outgushing 
of  good-will  ;  but  doubtless  one-half,  at  least,  of  our 
kind  hosts,  had  they  met  us  alone  and  unarmed  on 
the  prairie,  would  have  robbed  us  of  our  horses, 
and,  perchance,  have  bestowed  an  arrow  upon  us 
besides.  Trust  not  an  Indian.  Let  your  rifle  be 
ever  in  your  hand.  Wear  next  your  heart  the  old 
chivalric  motto,   "  Semper paratus." 

One  morning  we  were  summoned  to  the  lodge  of 
an  old  man,  m  good  truth  the  Nestor  of  his  tribe. 
We  found  him  half-sitting,  half- reclining  on  a  pile 
of  buffalo-robes  ;  his  long  hair,  jet-black  even  now, 
though  he  had  seen  some  eighty  winters,  hung  on 
either  side  of  his  thin  features.  Those  most  con- 
versant with  Indians  in  their  homes  will  scarcely 
believe  me  when  1  affirm  that  there  was  dignity  in 
his  countenance  and  mien.  His  gaunt  but  sym- 
metrical frame  did  not  more  clearly  exhibit  the 
wreck  of  by -gone  strength  than  did  his  dark,  wasted 
features,  still  prominent  and  commanding,  bear  the 
stamp  of  mental  energies.  I  recalled,  as  I  saw 
him,  the  eloquent  metaphor  of  the  Iroquois  sachem  : 
"I  am  an  aged  hemlock  ;  the  winds  of  an  hundred 
winters  have  whistled  through  my  branches,  and  I 
am  dead  at  the  top  !"  Opposite  the  patriarch  was 
his  nephew,  the  young  aspirant,  Mahto-Tatonka  ; 
and  besides  these  there  were  one  or  two  women  in 
the  lodge. 

The  old  man's  story  is  peculiar,  and  singularly 
illustrative  of  a  superstitious  custom  that  prevails  in 
full  force  among  many  of  the  Indian  tribes.  He 
was  one  of  a  powerful  family,  renowned  for  their 
warlike  exploits.  When  a  very  young  man  he  sub- 
mitted to  the  singular  rite  to  which  most  of  the  tribe 
subject  themselves  before  entermg  upon  life.  He 
painted  his  face  black  ;  then  seeking  out  a  cavern 
11 


l62  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

in  a  sequestered  part  of  the  Black  Hills,  he  lay  for 
several  days,  fasting  and  praying  to  the  Great  Spirit. 
In  the  dreams  and  visions  produced  by  his  weak- 
ened and  excited  state  he  fancied,  like  all  Indians, 
that  he  saw  supernatural  revelations.  Again  and 
again  the  form  of  an  antelope  appeared  before  him. 
The  antelope  is  the  graceful  peace-spirit  of  the 
Ogillallah  ;  but  seldom  is  it  that  such  a  gentle  vis- 
itor presents  itself  during  the  inidator>-  fasts  of  their 
young  men.  The  terrible  grizzly  bear,  the  divinity 
of  war,  usually  appears  to  fire  them  with  martial 
ardor  and  thirst  for  renown.  At  length  the  antelope 
spoke.  He  told  the  young  dreamer  that  he  was  not 
to  follow  the  path  of  war  ;  that  a  life  of  peace  and 
tranquillity  was  marked  out  for  him  ;  that  thence- 
forward he  was  to  guide  the  people  by  his  counsels, 
and  protect  them  from  the  evils  of  their  own  feuds 
and  dissensions.  Others  were  to  gain  renown  by 
fighting  the  enemy  ;  but  greatness  of  a  different  kind 
was  in  store  for  him. 

The  visions  beheld  during  the  period  of  this  fast 
usually  determine  the  whole  course  of  the  dreamer's 
life,  for  an  Indian  is  bound  by  iron  superstitions. 
From  that  time  Le  Borgne,  which  was  the  only  name 
by  which  we  knew  him,  abandoned  all  thoughts  of 
war,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  labors  of  peace. 
He  told  his  vision  to  the  people.  They  honored 
his  commission  and  respected  him  in  his  novel 
capacity. 

A  far  different  man  was  his  brother,  Mahto- 
Tatonka,  who  had  transmitted  his  names,  his  feat- 
ures, and  many  of  his  characteristic  qualities  to  his 
son.  He  was  the  father  of  Henry  Chatillon's 
squaw,  a  circumstance  which  proved  of  some  ad- 
vantage to  us,  as  securing  for  us  the  friendship  of  a 
family  perhaps  the  most  distinguished  and  powerful 
in  the  whole  Ogillallah  band.     Mahto-Tatonka,  in 


sc£NJe:s  at  the  camp.  163 

his  rude  way,  was  a  hero.  No  chief  could  vie  with 
him  in  warUke  renown  or  in  power  over  his  people. 
He  had  a  fearless  spirit  and  a  most  impetuous  and 
inflexible  resolution.  His  will  was  law.  He  was 
poHtic  and  sagacious,  and  with  true  Indian  craft  he 
always  befriended  the  whites,  well  knowing  that  he 
might  thus  reap  great  advantages  for  himself  and  his 
adherents.  When  he  had  resolved  on  any  course 
of  conduct,  he  would  pay  to  the  warriors  the  empty 
compliment  of  calling  them  together  to  deliberate 
upon  it,  and  when  their  debates  were  over,  he  would 
quietly  state  his  own  opinion,  which  no  one  ever  dis- 
puted. The  consequences  of  thwarting  his  impe- 
rious will  were  too  formidable  to  be  encountered. 
Woe  to  those  who  incurred  his  displeasure  !  He 
would  strike  them  or  stab  them  on  the  spot  ;  and 
this  act,  which  if  attempted  by  any  other  chief, 
would  instantly  have  cost  him  his  life,  the  awe  in- 
spired by  his  name  enabled  him  to  repeat  again 
and  again  with  impunity.  In  a  community  where, 
from  immemorial  time,  no  man  has  acknowledged 
any  law  but  his  own  will,  Mahto-Tatonka,  by  the 
force  of  his  dauntless  resolution,  raised  himself  to 
power  little  short  of  despotic.  His  haughty  career 
came  at  last  to  an  end.  He  had  a  host  of  enemies 
only  waiting  for  their  opportunity  of  revenge,  and 
our  old  friend  Smoke,  in  particular,  together  with  all 
his  kinsmen,  hated  him  most  cordially.  Smoke  sat 
one  day  in  his  lodge,  in  the  midst  of  his  own  village, 
when  Mahto-Tatonka  entered  it  alone,  and  ap- 
proaching the  dwelling  of  his  enemy,  called  on  him 
in  a  loud  voice  to  come  out,  if  he  were  a  man,  and 
fight.  Smoke  would  not  move.  At  this,  Mahto- 
Tatonka  proclaimed  him  a  coward  and  an  old 
woman,  and  striding  close  to  the  entrance  of  the 
lodge,  stabbed  the  chiefs  best  horse,  which  was 
picketed    there.       Smoke   was  daunted,    and  even 


164  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

this  insult  feUed  to  call  him  forth.  Mahto-Tatcnka 
moved  haughtily  away  :  aU  made  way  for  him,  but 
his  hour  of  reckoning  was  near. 

One  hot  day,  five  or  six  years  ago,  numerous 
lodges  of  Smoke's  kinsmen  were  gathered  around 
some  of  the  Fur  Company's  men,  who  were  trading 
in  various  articles  with  them,  whiskey  among  the 
rest.  Mahto-Tatonka  was  also  there  with  a  few  of 
his  people.  As  he  lay  in  his  owti  lodge,  a  fray  arose 
between  his  adherents  and  the  kinsmen  of  his 
enemy.  The  war-whoop  was  raised,  bullets  and 
arrows  began  to  fly.  and  the  camp  was  in  confusion. 
The  chief  sprang  up,  and  rushing  in  a  fiir)-  from  the 
lodge,  shouted  to  the  combatants  on  both  sides  to 
cease.  Instantiy — for  the  attack  was  preconcerted — 
came  the  reports  of  t\vo  or  three  guns,  and  the 
twanging  of  a  dozen  bows,  and  the  savage  hero, 
mortally  wounded,  pitched  forward  headlong  to  the 
ground.  Rouleau  was  present,  and  told  me  the 
particulars.  The  tumult  became  general,  and  was 
not  quelled  until  several  had  fallen  on  both  sides. 
WTien  we  were  in  the  country  the  feud  between  the 
two  feimilies  was  still  rankling,  and  not  likely  soon 
to  cease. 

Thus  died  Mahto-Tatonka,  but  he  left  behind  him 
a  goodly  army  of  descendants  to  perpetuate  his  re- 
nown and  avenge  his  fate.  Besides  daughters,  he 
had  thirrs-  sons,  a  number  which  need  not  stagger 
the  creduht\-  of  those  who  are  best  acquainted  with 
Indian  usages  and  practices.  We  saw  many  of 
them,  all  marked  by  the  same  dark  complexion, 
and  the  same  peculiar  cast  of  features.  Of  these, 
our  \Tsitor,  young  Mahto-Tatonka,  was  the  eldest, 
and  some  reported  him  as  likely  to  succeed  to  his 
father's  honors.  Though  he  appeared  not  more 
than  twenty -one  years  old.  he  had  oftener  struck  the 
enemy,  and  stolen  more  horses  and  more  squaws 


SCENES  AT   THE    CAMP.  1 65 

than  any  young  man  in  the  village.  We  of  the 
civilized  world  are  not  apt  to  attach  much  credit  to 
the  latter  species  of  exploits  ;  but  horse-stealing  is 
well  known  as  an  avenue  to  distinction  on  the 
prairies,  and  the  other  kind  of  depredation  is  es- 
teemed equally  meritorious.  Not  that  the  act  can 
confer  fame  from  its  own  intrinsic  merits.  Any  one 
can  steal  a  squaw,  and  if  he  chooses  aftervvard  to 
make  an  adequate  present  to  her  rightful  proprietor, 
the  easy  husband  for  the  most  part  rests  content, 
his  vengeance  falls  asleep,  and  all  danger  from  that 
quarter  is  averted.  Vet  this  is  esteemed  but  a 
pitiful  and  mean-spirited  transaction.  The  danger 
is  averted,  but  the  glor\-  of  the  achievement  also  is 
lost.  Mahto-Tatonka  proceeded  after  a  more  gal- 
lant and  dashing  fashion.  Out  of  several  dozen 
squaws  whom  he  had  stolen,  he  could  boast  that  he 
had  never  paid  for  one,  but  snapping  his  fingers  in 
the  face  of  the  injured  husband,  had  defied  the  e.\- 
tremity  of  his  indignation,  and  no  one  yet  had  dared 
to  lay  the  finger  of  violence  upon  him.  He  was 
following  close  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father.  The 
young  men  and  the  young  squaws,  each  in  their 
way,  admired  him.  The  one  would  always  follow 
him  to  war,  and  he  was  esteemed  to  have  an  unri- 
valled charm  in  the  eyes  of  the  other.  Perhaps 
his  impunity  may  excite  some  wonder.  An  arrow 
shot  from  a  ravine,  a  stab  given  in  the  dark,  require 
no  great  valor,  and  are  especially  suited  to  the  In- 
dian genius  ;  but  Mahto-Tatonka  had  a  strong  pro- 
tection. It  was  not  alone  his  courage  and  auda- 
cious will  that  enabled  him  to  career  so  dashingly 
among  his  compeers.  His  enemies  did  not  forget 
that  he  was  one  of  thirty  warlike  brethren,  all  grow- 
ing up  to  manhood.  Should  they  wreak  their  anger 
upon  him,  many  keen  eyes  would  be  ever  upon 
them,  manv  fierce  hearts  would  thirst  for  their  blood. 


1 66  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

The  avenger  would  dog  their  footsteps  everj-where. 
To  kill  Mahto-Tatonka  would  be  no  better  than  an 
act  of  suicide. 

Though  he  found  such  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
fair,  he  was  no  dandy.  As  among  us,  those  of 
highest  worth  and  breeding  are  most  simple  in  man- 
ner and  attire,  so  our  aspiring  young  friend  was  in' 
different  to  the  gaudy  trappings  and  ornaments  of 
his  companions.  He  was  content  to  rest  his  chances 
of  success  upon  his  own  warlike  merits.  He  never 
arrayed  himself  in  gaudy  blanket  and  glittering 
necklaces,  but  left  his  statue-like  form,  limbed  like 
an  Apollo  of  bronze,  to  win  its  way  to  favor.  His 
voice  was  singularly  deep  and  strong.  It  sounded 
from  his  chest  like  the  deep  notes  of  an  organ. 
Yet  after  all,  he  was  but  an  Indian.  See  him  as  he 
lies  there  in  the  sun  before  our  tent,  kicking  his 
heels  in  the  air  and  cracking  jokes  with  his  brother. 
Does  he  look  like  a  hero  ?  See  him  now  in  the 
hour  of  his  glor\',  when  at  sunset  the  whole  village 
empties  itself  to  behold  him,  for  to-morrow  their 
favorite  young  partisan  goes  out  against  the  enemy. 
His  superb  head-dress  is  adorned  with  a  crest  of 
the  war-eagle's  feathers,  rising  in  a  waving  ridge 
above  his  brow,  and  sweeping  far  behind  him.  His 
round  white  shield  hangs  at  his  breast,  with  feathers 
radiating  from  the  centre  like  a  star.  His  quiver 
is  at  his  back  ;  his  tall  lance  in  his  hand,  the  iron 
point  flashing  against  the  declining  sun,  while  the 
long  scalp-locks  of  his  enemies  flutter  from  the 
shaft.  Thus,  gorgeous  as  a  champion  in  his  panoply, 
he  rides  round  and  round  within  the  great  circle  of 
lodges,  balancing  with  a  graceful  buoyancy  to  the 
free  movements  of  his  war-horse,  while  with  a  sedate 
brow  he  sings  his  song  to  the  Great  Spirit.  Young 
rival  warriors  look  askance  at  him  ;  vermilion- 
cheeked  girls  gaze  in  admiration;  boys  whoop  and 


SCEA'ES  AT   THE   CAMP.  1 6/ 

scream  in  a  thrill  of  delight,  and  old  women  yell 
forth  his  name  and  proclaim  his  praises  from  lodge 
to  lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka.  to  come  back  to  him,  was  the 
best  of  all  our  Indian  friends.  Hour  after  hour  and 
day  after  day,  when  swarms  of  savages  of  every 
age,  se.K,  and  degree  beset  our  camp,  he  would  He 
in  our  tent,  his  lynx-eye  ever  open  to  guard  our 
property  from  pillage. 

The  Whirlwind  invited  us  one  day  to  his  lodge. 
The  feast  was  finished  and  the  pipe  began  to  circu- 
late. It  was  a  remarkably  large  and  fine  one,  and 
I  e.xpressed  my  admiration  of  its  form  and  dimen- 
sions. 

' '  If  the  Meneaska  likes  the  pipe, ' '  asked  the 
Whirlwind,  ' '  why  does  he  not  keep  it  ?' ' 

Such  a  pipe  among  the  Ogillallah  is  valued  at  the 
price  of  a  horse.  A  princely  gift,  thinks  the  reader, 
and  worthy  of  a  chieftain  and  a  warrior.  The 
Whirlwind's  generosity  rose  to  no  such  pitch.  He 
gave  me  the  pipe,  confidently  expecting  that  I  in 
return  should  make  him  a  present  of  equal  or 
superior  value.  This  is  the  implied  condition  of 
every  gift  among  the  Indians  as  among  the  Orient- 
als, and  should  it  not  be  compHed  with,  the  pres- 
ent is  usually  reclaimed  by  the  giver.  So  I  ar- 
ranged upon  a  gaudy  calico  handkerchief  an  assort- 
ment of  vermihon,  tobacco,  knives,  and  gunpow- 
der, and,  summoning  the  chief  to  camp,  assured 
him  of  my  friendship,  and  begged  his  acceptance 
of  a  slight  token  of  it.  Ejaculating  "how  !  how  !" 
he  folded  up  the  ofi"erings  and  withdrew  to  his  lodge. 

Several  days  passed,  and  we  and  the  Indians  re- 
mained encamped  side  by  side.  They  could  not 
decide  whether  or  not  to  go  to  the  war.  Toward 
evening  scores  of  them  would  surround  our  tent,  a 
picturesque  group.      Late  one  afternoon  a  party  of 


1 68  THE    ORE  G  OX  TRAIL. 

them  mounted  on  horseback  came  suddenly  in  sight 
from  behind  some  clumps  of  bushes  that  lined  the 
bank  of  the  stream,  leading  with  them  a  mule,  on 
whose  back  was  a  wretched  negro,  only  sustained 
in  his  seat  by  the  high  pommel  and  cantle  of  the 
Indian  saddle.  His  cheeks  were  withered  and 
shrunken  in  the  hollow  of  his  jaws  ;  his  eyes  were 
unnaturally  dilated,  and  his  lips  seemed  shrivelled 
and  drawn  back  from  his  teeth  hke  those  of  a 
corpse.  WTien  they  brought  him  up  before  our 
tent,  and  lifted  him  from  the  saddle,  he  could  not 
walk  or  stand,  but  he  crawled  a  short  distance,  and, 
M-ith  a  look  of  utter  misen,,  sat  down  on  the  grass. 
All  the  children  and  women  came  pouring  out  of 
the  lodges  around  us,  and  with  screams  and  cries 
made  a  close  circle  about  him,  while  he  sat  support- 
ing himself  with  his  hands,  and  looking  from  side 
to  side  with  a  vacant  stare.  The  wretch  was  starr- 
ing to  death  I  For  thirty-three  days  he  had  wan- 
dered alone  on  the  prairie,  without  weapon  of  any 
kind  ;  without  shoes,  moccasons,  or  any  other 
clothing  than  an  old  jacket  and  pantaloons  ;  vith- 
out  intelligence  and  skill  to  guide  his  course,  or  any 
knowledge  of  the  productions  of  the  prairie.  All 
this  time  he  had  subsisted  on  crickets  and  hzards, 
wild  onions,  and  three  eggs  which  he  found  in  the 
nest  of  a  prairie-dove.  He  had  not  seen  a  human 
being.  Utterly  bewildered  in  the  boundless,  hope- 
less desert  that  stretched  around  him,  offering  to 
his  inexperienced  eye  no  mark  by  which  to  direct  his 
course,  he  had  walked  on  in  despair,  till  he  could 
walk  no  longer,  and  then  crawled  on  his  knees,  until 
the  bone  was  laid  bare.  He  chose  the  night  for  his 
travelling,  laying  down  by  day  to  sleep  in  the  glar- 
ing sun,  always  dreaming,  as  he  said,  of  the  broth 
and  corn-cake  he  used  to  eat  under  his  old  master's 
shed  in  Missouri.     Ever)-  man  in  the   camp,  both 


SCEXES  AT  THE   CAMP.  1 69 

white  and  red,  was  astonished  at  his  wonderful 
escape,  not  only  from  star\ation,  but  from  the  grizzly 
bears  which  abound  in  that  neighborhood,  and  the 
wohes  which  howled  around  him  every  night. 

Reynal  recognized  him  the  moment  the  Indians 
brought  him  in.  He  had  run  away  from  his  master 
about  a  year  before  and  joined  the  party  of  M. 
Richard,  who  was  then  leaving  the  frontier  for  the 
mountains.  He  had  lived  with  Richard  ever  since, 
until  in  the  end  of  May  he,  with  Reynal  and  se\  eral 
other  men,  went  out  in  search  of  some  stray  horses, 
when  he  got  separated  from  the  rest  in  a  storm,  and 
had  never  been  heard  of  up  to  this  time.  Knowing 
his  inexperience  and  helplessness,  no  one  dreamed 
that  he  could  still  be  living.  The  Indians  had  found 
him  lying  exhausted  on  the  ground. 

As  he  sat  there  with  the  Indians  gazing  silently  on 
him,  his  haggard  face  and  glazed  eye  were  disgust- 
ing to  look  upon.  Delorier  made  him  a  bowl  of 
gruel,  but  he  suffered  it  to  remain  untasted  before 
him.  At  length  he  languidly  raised  the  spoon  to 
his  lips  ;  again  he  did  so,  and  again  ;  and  then  his 
appetite  seemed  suddenly  inflamed  into  madness, 
for  he  seized  the  bowl,  swallowed  all  its  contents  in 
a  few  seconds,  and  eagerly  demanded  meat.  This 
we  refused,  telling  him  to  wait  until  morning  ;  but 
he  begged  so  eagerly  that  we  gave  him  a  small 
piece,  which  he  devoured,  tearing  it  like  a  dog. 
He  said  he  must  have  more.  We  told  him  that  his 
life  was  in  danger  if  he  ate  so  immoderately  at  first. 
He  assented,  and  said  he  knew  he  was  a  fool  to  do  so. 
but  he  must  have  meat.  This  we  absolutely  refused, 
to  the  great  indignation  of  the  senseless  squaws, 
who,  when  we  were  not  watching  him,  would  slyly 
bring  dried  meat  and  potntiics  blanches,  and  place 
them  on  the  ground  by  his  side.  Still  this  was  not 
enough  for  him.     When  it  grew  dark  he  contrived 


170  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

to  creep  away  ben\  een  the  legs  of  the  horses  and 
crawl  over  to  the  Indian  village,  about  a  furlong 
down  the  stream.  Here  he  fed  to  his  heart's  con- 
tent, and  was  brought  back  again  in  the  morning, 
when  Jean  Gras,  the  trapper,  put  him  on  horseback 
and  carried  him  to  the  fort.  He  managed  to  sur- 
vi\  e  the  effects  of  his  insane  greediness,  and  though 
sUghdy  deranged  when  he  left  this  part  of  the 
country-,  he  was  otherwise  in  tolerable  health,  and 
expressed  his  firm  conviction  that  nothing  could  e\er 
kill  him. 

When  the  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high,  it  was  a  gay 
scene  in  the  village.  The  warriors  stalked  sedately 
among  the  lodges,  or  along  the  margin  of  the 
streams,  or  walked  out  to  \-isit  the  bands  of  horses 
that  were  feeding  over  the  prairie.  Half  the  \"illage 
population  deserted  the  close  and  heated  lodges  and 
betook  themselves  to  the  water  ;  and  here  you  might 
see  boys  and  girls  and  young  squaws  splashing, 
swimming,  and  diving  beneath  the  afternoon  sun, 
with  merrj-  laughter  and  screaming.  But  when  the 
sun  was  just  resting  above  the  broken  peaks,  and 
the  purple  mountains  threw  their  prolonged  shadows 
for  miles  over  the  prairie  ;  when  our  grim  old  tree, 
lighted  by  the  horizontal  rays,  assumed  an  aspect 
of  peaceful  repose,  such  as  one  loves  after  scenes 
of  timiult  and  excitement ;  and  when  the  whole  land- 
scape of  swelling  plains  and  scattered  groves  was 
softened  into  a  tranquil  beaut\',  then  our  encamp- 
ment presented  a  striking  spectacle.  Could  Sal- 
vator  Rosa  have  transferred  it  to  his  canvas,  it  would 
have  added  new  renown  to  his  pencil.  Savage 
figures  surrounded  our  tent,  with  quivers  at  their 
backs,  and  gvms,  lances,  or  tomahawks  in  their 
hands.  Some  sat  on  horseback,  motionless  as 
equestrian  statues,  their  arms  crossed  on  their 
breasts,  their  eyes    fixed  in  a  steady,    unwavering 


SCENES  AT    THE    CAMP.  I7I 

gaze  upon  us.  Some  stood  erect,  wrapped  from 
head  to  foot  in  their  long  white  robes  of  buftalo-hide. 
Some  sat  together  on  the  grass,  holding  their  shaggy- 
horses  by  a  rope,  with  their  broad  dark  busts  ex- 
posed to  view  as  they  suffered  their  robes  to  fall 
from  their  shoulders.  '  Others  again  stood  carelessly 
among  the  throng,  with  nothing  to  conceal  the 
matchless  symmetry'  of  their  forms  ;  and  I  do  not 
exaggerate  when  1  say  that  only  on  the  prairie  and 
in  the  \'atican  have  I  seen  such  faultless  models  of 
the  human  figure.  See  that  warrior  standing  by  the 
tree,  towering  six  feet  and  a  half  in  stature.  Your 
eyes  may  trace  the  whole  of  his  graceful  and  majestic 
height,  and  discover  no  defect  or  blemish.  With 
his'free  and  noble  attitude,  with  the  bow  in  his  hand, 
and  the  quiver  at  his  back,  he  might  seem,  but  for 
his  face,  the  Pythian  Apollo  himself.  Such  a  figure 
rose  before  the  imagination  of  West,  when  on  first 
seeing  the  Belvidere  in  the  Vatican,  he  exclaimed, 
"  By  God,  a  Mohawk  !" 

When  the  sky  darkened  and  the  stars  began  to 
appear  ;  when  the  prairie  was  involved  in  gloom, 
and  the  horses  were  driven  in  and  secured  around 
the  camp,  the  crowd  began  to  melt  away.  Fires 
gleamed  around,  duskily  revealing  the  rough  trap- 
pers and  the  graceful  Indians.  One  of  the  families 
near  us  would  always  be  gathered  about  a  bright 
blaze,  that  displayed  the  shadowy  dimensions  of 
their  lodge  and  sent  its  hghts  far  up  among  the 
masses  of  foliage  above,  gilding  the  dead  and  ragged 
branches.  Withered  witch-like  hags  flitted  around 
the  blaze  ;  and  here  for  hour  after  hour  sat  a  circle 
of  children  and  young  girls,  laughing  and  talking, 
their  round  mern,-  faces  glowing  in  the  ruddy  light. 
We  could  hear  the  monotonous  notes  of  the  drum 
from  the  Indian  village,  with  the  chant  of  the  war- 
song,  deadened  in  the  distance,  and  the  long  chorus 


172  THE    ORE  G  OX  TRAIL. 

of  quavering  yells,  where  the  war-dance  was  going 
on  in  the  largest  lodge.  For  several  nights,  too,  we 
could  hear  wild  and  mournful  cries,  rising  and  dying 
away  like  the  melancholy  voice  of  a  wolf.  They 
came  from  the  sisters  and  female  relatives  of  Mahto- 
Tatonka,  who  were  gashing  their  limbs  -with  knives 
and  bewailing  the  death  of  Henn,-  Chatillon's  squaw. 
The  hour  would  grow  late  before  all  retired  to  rest 
in  the  camp.  Then  the  embers  of  the  tires  would 
be  glowing  dimly,  the  men  would  be  stretched  in 
their  blankets  on  the  ground,  and  nothing  could  be 
heard  but  the  restless  motions  of  the  crowded  horses. 

I  recall  these  scenes  with  a  mixed  feehng  of  pleas- 
ure and  pain.  At  this  time  I  was  so  reduced  by  ill- 
ness that  1  could  seldom  walk  without  reehng  like  a 
drunken  man,  and  when  I  rose  from  my  seat  upon 
the  ground  the  landscape  suddenly  grew  dim  before 
my  eyes,  the  trees  and  lodges  seemed  to  sway  to  and 
fro,  and  the  prairie  to  rise  and  fall  like  the  swells  of 
the  ocean.  Such  a  state  of  things  is  by  no  means 
enviable  anywhere.  In  a  country  where  a  man's 
life  may  at  any  jnoment  depend  on  the  strength  of 
his  arm,  or  it  may  be  on  the  acti\-it}-  of  his  legs,  it 
is  more  particularly  inconvenient.  Medical  assist- 
ance, of  course,  there  was  none  ;  neither  had  1  the 
means  of  pursuing  a  system  of  diet  ;  and  sleeping 
on  damp  ground,  with  an  occasional  drenching  from 
a  shower,  would  hardly  be  recommended  as  bene- 
ficial. I  sometimes  suffered  the  extremit}-  of  lan- 
guor and  exhaustion,  and  though  at  the  time  1  felt 
no  apprehensions  of  the  final  result,  1  have  since 
learned  that  my  situation  was  a  critical  one. 

Besides  other  formidable  inconveniences,  I  owe  it 
in  a  great  measure  to  the  remote  effects  of  that  un- 
lucky disorder  that  from  deficient  eyesight  I  am 
compelled  to  employ  the  pen  of  another  in  taking 
down   this  narrative   from    my  lips  ;    and    I    have 


SCEXES  AT  THE   CAMP.  1 73 

learned  ven-  effectually  that  a  violent  attack  of 
dysenten-  on  the  prairie  is  a  thing  too  serious  for  a 
joke.  I  tried  repose  and  a  ver\-  sparing  diet.  For 
a  long  time,  with  exemplary-  patience,  I  lounged 
about  the  camp,  or,  at  the  utmost,  staggered  over  to 
the  Indian  village,  and  walked  faint  and  dizzy 
among  the  lodges.  It  would  not  do  ;  and  I  be- 
thought me  of  starvation.  During  five  days  I  sus- 
tained life  on  one  small  biscuit  a  day.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  I  was  weaker  than  before,  but  the  dis- 
order seemed  shaken  in  its  stronghold,  and  ver\'  grad- 
ually I  began  to  resume  a  less  rigid  diet.  No  sooner 
had  I  done  so  than  the  same  detested  symptoms  re- 
visited me  ;  my  old  enemy  resumed  his  pertinacious 
assaults,  yet  not  with  his  former  violence  or  con- 
stancy, and  though  before  I  regained  any  fair  por- 
tion of  my  ordinary-  strength  weeks  had  elapsed, 
and  months  passed  before  the  disorder  left  me,  yet 
thanks  to  old  habits  of  activity-,  and  a  merciful 
Providence,  I  was  able  to  sustain  myself  against  it. 
I  used  to  lie  languid  and  dreamy  before  our  tent, 
and  muse  on  the  past  and  the  future,  and  when 
most  overcome  with  lassitude,  my  eyes  turned  al- 
ways toward  the  distant  Black  Hills.  There  is  a 
spirit  of  energ}-  and  vigor  in  mountains,  and  they 
impart  it  to  all  who  approach  their  presence.  At 
that  time  I  did  not  know  how  many  dark  supersti- 
tions and  gloomy  legends  are  associated  with  those 
mountains  in  the  minds  of  the  Indians,  but  I  felt 
an  eager  desire  to  penetrate  their  hidden  recesses, 
to  explore  the  awful  chasms  and  precipices,  the 
black  torrents,  the  silent  forests,  that  I  fancied  were 
concealed  there. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ILL  LUCK. 

"  One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear, 
\\'hen  they  reach'd  the  hall-door,  and  the  charger  stood 

near; 
So  light  to  the  croupe  the  fair  lady  he  swung, 
So  light  to  the  saddle  before  her  he  sprung ! 
'  She  is  won  !  we  are  gone,  over  bank,  bush,  and  scaur ; 
They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,"  quoth  young  Loch- 
invar." — Marmion. 

A  Canadian  came  from  Fort  Laramie  and  brought 
a  curious  piece  of  intelligence.  A  trapper,  fresh 
from  the  mountains,  had  become  enamored  of  a 
IMissouri  damsel  belonging  to  a  family  who  ■w-ith 
other  emigrants  had  been  for  some  days  encamped 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  fort.  If  braven,-  be  the 
most  potent  charm  to  win  the  favor  of  the  fair,  then 
no  wooer  could  be  more  irresistible  than  a  Rocky 
Mountain  trapper.  In  the  present  instance  the  suit 
was  not  urged  in  vain.  The  lovers  concerted  a 
scheme,  which  they  proceeded  to  carry'  into  effect 
with  all  possible  dispatch.  The  emigrant  party  left 
the  fort,  and  on  the  next  succeeding  night  but  one  en- 
camped as  usual,  and  placed  a  guard.  A  little  after 
midnight  the  enamored  trapper  drew  near,  mounted 
on  a  strong  horse,  and  leading  another  by  the  bridle. 
Fastening  both  animals  to  a  tree,  he  stealthily  moved 
toward  the  wagons,  as  if  he  were  approaching  a  band 
of  buffalo.  Eluding  the  vigilance  of  the  guard,  who 
were  probably  half-asleep,  he  met  his  mistress  by 
appointment  at  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  mounted 
her  on  his  spare  horse,  and  made  off  with  her 
through  the  darkness.  The  sequel  of  the  adventure 
174 


ILL  LUCK.  175 

did  not  reach  our  ears,  and  we  never  learned  how 
the  imprudent  fair  one  liked  an  Indian  lodge  for  a 
dwelling  and  a  reckless  trapper  for  a  bridegroom. 

At  length  the  Whirlwind  and  his  warriors  deter- 
mined to  move.  They  had  resolved  after  all  their 
preparations  not  to  go  to  the  rendezvous  at  La 
Bonte's  camp,  but  to  pass  through  the  I51ack  Hills 
and  spend  a  few  weeks  in  hunting  the  buffalo  on  the 
other  side,  until  they  had  killed  enough  to  furnish 
them  with  a  stock  of  provisions  and  with  hides 
to  make  their  lodges  for  the  next  season.  This 
done,  they  were  to  send  out  a  small  independent 
war-party  against  the  enemy.  Their  linal  deter- 
mination left  us  in  some  embarrassment.  Should 
we  go  to  La  Bonte's  camp,  it  was  not  impossible 
that  the  other  villages  should  prove  as  vacillating 
and  indecisive  as  the  Whirlwind's,  and  that  no  as- 
sembly whatever  would  take  place.  Our  old  com- 
panion Reynal  had  conceived  a  liking  for  us,  or 
rather  for  our  biscuit  and  coffee,  and  for  the  occa- 
sional small  presents  which  we  made  him.  He  was 
very  anxious  that  we  should  go  with  the  village 
which  he  himself  intended  to  accompany.  He  de- 
clared he  was  certain  that  no  Indians  would  meet  at 
the  rendezvous,  and  said,  moreover,  that  it  would 
be  easy  to  convey  our  cart  and  baggage  through  the 
Black  Hills.  In  saying  this,  he  told,  as  usual,  an 
egregious  falsehood.  Neither  he  nor  any  white  man 
with  us  had  ever  seen  the  difficult  and  obscure  de- 
files through  which  the  Indians  intended  to  make 
their  way.  I  passed  them  afterward,  and  had  much 
ado  to  force  my  distressed  horse  along  the  narrow 
ravines  and  through  chasms  where  daylight  could 
scarcely  penetrate.  Our  cart  might  as  easily  have 
been  conveyed  over  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak. 
Anticipating  the  difficulties  and  uncertainties  of  an 
attempt  to  visit  the  rendezvous,  we  recalled  the  old 


\y6  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

proverb  about  ' '  A  bird  in  the  hand, ' '  and  decided 
to  follow  the  village.  • 

Both  camps,  the  Indians'  and  our  own,  br©ke_up_ 
on  the  morning  of  the  first  of  July.  I  was  so  weak 
that  the  aid  of  a  potent  auxiliary,  a  spoonful  of 
whiskey,  swallowed  at  short  intervals,  alone  enabled 
me  to  sit  my  hardy  little  mare  Pauline  through  the 
short  journey  of  that  day.  For  half  a  mile  before 
us  and  half  a  mile  behind  the  prairie  was  covered 
far  and  wide  with  the  moving  throng  of  savages. 
The  barren,  broken  plain  stretched  away  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  far  in  front  rose  the  gloomy  pre- 
cipitous ridge  of  the  Black  Hills.  We  pushed  for- 
ward to  the  head  of  the  scattered  column,  passing 
the  burdened  travaux,  the  heavily  laden  pack- 
horses,  the  gaunt  old  women  on  foot,  the  gay  young 
squaws  on  horseback,  the  restless  children  running 
among  the  crowd,  old  men,  striding  along  in  their 
white  bufifalo-robes,  and  groups  of  young  warriors 
mounted  on  their  best  horses.  Henr)-  Chatillon, 
looking  backward  over  the  distant  prairie,  exclaimed 
suddenly  that  a  horseman  was  approaching,  and  in 
truth  we  could  just  discern  a  small  black  speck 
slowly  moving  over  the  face  of  a  distant  swell,  like 
a  fly  creeping  on  a  wall.  It  rapidly  grew  larger  as 
it  approached. 

"White  man,  I  b'lieve,"  said  Henry;  "look 
how  he  ride  !  Indian  never  ride  that  way.  Yes  ; 
he  got  rifle  on  the  saddle  before  him." 

The  horseman  disappeared  in  a  hollow  of  the 
prairie,  but  we  soon  saw  him  again,  and  as  he  came 
riding  at  a  gallop  toward  us  thi'ough  the  crowd  of 
Indian^,  his  long  hair  streaming  in  the  wind  behind 
him,  we  recognized  the  ruddy  face  and  old  buckskin 
frock  of  Jean  Gras  the  trapper.  He  was  just  arrived 
from  Fort  Laramie,  where  he  had  been  on  a  visit, 
and  said  he  had  a  message  for  us.     A  trader  named 


ILL  LUCK.  177 

Bisonette,  one  of  Henrj-'s  friends,  was  lately  come 
from  the  settlements,  and  intended  to  go  with  a 
party  of  men  to  La  Bonte's  camp,  where,  as  Jean 
Gras  assured  us,  ten  or  twelve  villages  of  Indians 
would  certainly  assemble.  Bisonette  desired  that 
we  would  cross  over  and  meet  him  there,  and 
promised  that  his  men  should  protect  our  horses 
and  baggage  while  we  went  among  the  Indians, 
Shaw  and  I  stopped  our  horses  and  held  a  council, 
and  in  an  evil  hour  resolved  to  go. 

For  the  rest  of  that  day's  journey  our  course  and 
that  of  the  Indians  was  the  same.  In  less  than  an 
hour  we  came  to  where  the  high  barren  prairie  ter- 
minated, sinking  down  abruptly  in  steep  descent ; 
and  standing  on  these  heights,  we  saw  below  us  a 
great  level  meadow.  Laramie  Creek  bounded  it  on 
the  left,  sweeping  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  de- 
clivities, and  passing  with  its  shallow  and  rapid 
current  just  below  us.  We  sat  on  horseback,  wait- 
ing and  looking  on,  while  the  whole  savage  array 
went  pouring  past  us,  hurr)'ing  down  the  descent, 
and  spreading  themselves  over  the  meadow  below. 
In  a  few  moments  the  plain  was  swarming  with  the 
moving  multitude,  some  just  visible,  like  specks  in 
the  distance,  others  still  passing  on,  pressing  down, 
and  fording  the  stream  with  bustle  and  confusion. 
On  the  edge  of  the  heights  sat  half  a  dozen  of  the 
elder  warriors,  gravely  smoking  and  looking  down 
with  jnmoved  faces  on  the  wild  and  striking  spec- 
tacle. 

L'p  went  the  lodges  in  a  circle  on  the  margin  of 
the  stream.  For  the  sake  of  quiet  we  pitched  our 
tent  among  some  trees  at  half  a  mile's  distance. 
In  the  afternoon  we  were  in  the  village.  The  day 
was  a  glorious  one,  and  the  whole  camp  seemed 
lively  and  animated  in  sympathy.  Groups  of  chil- 
dren and  young  girls  were  laughing  gayly  on  the 
12 


178  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

outside  of  the  lodges.  The  shields,  the  lances,  and 
the  bows  were  removed  from  the  tall  tripods  on 
which  they  usually  hung  before  the  dwellings  of 
their  owners.  The  warriors  were  mounting  their 
horses,  and  one  by  one  riding  away  over  the  prajrie 
toward  the  neighboring  hills. 

Shaw  and  1  sat  on  the  grass  near  the  lodge  of 
Reynal.  An  old  woman,  -with  true  Indian  ho^i- 
talit}-,  brought  a  bowl  oi  boiled  venison  and  placed 
it  before  us.  We  amused  ourselves  with  watching- 
half  a  dozen  young  squaws  who  were  placing 
together  and  chasing  each  other  in  and  out  of  one 
of  the  lodges.  Suddenly  the  wild  yell  of  the  war- 
whoop  came  pealing  from  the  hills.  A  crowd  of 
horsemen  appeared,  rushing  dovs-n  their  sides,  and 
riding  at  full  speed  toward  the  village,  each  warrior's 
long  hair  flpng  behind  him  in  the  wind  hke  a  ship's 
streamer.  As  they  approached,  the  confused  throng 
assumed  a  regular  order,  and  entering  two  by  two, 
they  circled  round  the  area  at  full  gallop,  each 
warrior  singing  his  war-song  as  he  rode.  Some  of 
their  dresses  were  splendid.  They  wore  superb 
crests  of  feathers,  and  close  tunics  of  antelope-skins, 
fringed  with  the  scalp-locks  of  their  enemies  ;  their 
shields  too  were  often  fluttering  with  the  war-eagle's 
feathers.  All  had  bows  and  arrows  at  their  backs  ; 
some  carried  long  lances,  and  a  few  were  armed 
\\"ith  guns.  The  White  Shield,  their  partisan,  rode 
in  gorgeous  attire  at  their  head,  mounted  on  a  black- 
and-white  horse.  Mahto-Tatonka  and  his  brothers 
took  no  part  in  this  parade,  for  they  were  in  mourn- 
ing for  their  sister,  and  were  all  sitting  in  their 
lodges,  their  bodies  bedaubed  from  head  to  foot  with 
white  clay,  and  a  lock  of  hair  cut  from  each  of  their 
foreheads. 

The  warriors  circled  three  times  round  the  \Tllage  ; 
and  as  each  distinguished  champion  passed,  the  old 


ILL  LUCK.  179 

women  would  scream  out  his  name,  in  honor  of  his 
bravery,  and  to  incite  the  emulation  of  the  younger 
warriors.  Little  urchins,  not  two  years  old,  followed 
the  warlike  pageant  with  glittering  eyes,  and  looked 
with  eager  wonder  and  admiration  at  those  whose 
honors  were  proclaimed  by  the  public  voice  of  the 
village.  Thus  early  is  the  lesson  of  war  instilled 
into  the  mind  of  an  Indian,  and  such  are  the  stimu- 
lants which  excite  his  thirst  for  martial  renown. 

The  procession  rode  out  of  the  village  as  it  had 
entered  it,  and  in  half  an  hour  all  the  warriors  had 
returned  again,  dropping  quietly  in,  singly  or  in 
parties  of  two  or  three. 

As  the  sun  rose  next  morning  we  looked  across 
the  meadow,  and  could  see  the  lodges  levelled  and 
the  Indians  gathering  together  in  preparation  to 
leave  the  camp.  Their  course  lay  to  the  westward. 
We  turned  toward  the  north  with  our  three  men,  the 
four  trappers  following  us,  with  the  Indian  family 
of  Moran.  We  travelled  until  night.  I  suffered 
not  a  little  from  pain  and  weakness.  We  encamped 
among  some  trees  by  the  side  of  a  little  brook,  and 
here  during  the  whole  of  the  next  day  we  lay  wait- 
ing for  Bisonette,  but  no  Bisonette  appeared.  Here 
also  two  of  our  trapper  friends  left  us,  and  set  out 
for  the  Rocky  Mountains.  On  the  second  morning, 
despairing  of  Bisonette' s  arrival,  we  resumed  our 
journey,  traversing  a  forlorn  and  dreary  monotony 
of  sun-scorched  plains,  where  no  living  thing  ap- 
peared save  here  and  there  an  antelope  flying  before 
us  like  the  wind.  When  noon  came  we  saw  an  un- 
wonted and  most  welcome  sight  ;  a  rich  and  luxuri- 
ant growth  of  trees,  marking  the  course  of  a  little 
stream  called  Horse-Shoe  Creek.  We  turned  gladly 
toward  it.  There  were  lofty  and  spreading  trees, 
standing  widely  asunder,  and  supporting  a  thick 
canopy  of  leaves,  above  a  surface  of  rich,  tall  grass. 


l8o  THE    ORE  GO. V  TRAIL. 

The  stream  ran  smftly,  as  clear  as  crystal,  through 
the  bosom  of  the  wood,  sparkhng  over  its  bed  of 
white  sand,  and  darkening  again  as  it  entered  a 
deep  cavern  of  leaves  and  boughs.  I  was  thor- 
oughly exhausted,  and  flung  myself  on  the  ground, 
scarcely  able  to  move.  All  that  afternoon  I  lay  in 
the  shade  by  the  side  of  the  stream,  and  those 
bright  woods  and  sparkling  waters  are  associated  in 
my  mind  with  recollections  of  lassitude  and  utter 
prostration.  WTien  night  came  I  sat  down  by  the 
fire,  longing,  with  an  intensity  of  which  at  this 
moment  I  can  hardly  conceive,  for  some  powerful 
stimulant. 

In  the  morning,  as  glorious  a  sun  rose  upon  us 
as  ever  animated  that  desolate  wilderness.  We  ad- 
vanced, and  soon  were  surrounded  by  tall  bare 
hills,  overspread  from  top  to  bottom  with  prickly- 
pears  and  other  cacti,  that  seemed  like  clinging 
reptiles.  A  plain,  flat  and  hard,  and  with  scarcely 
the  vestige  of  grass,  lay  before  us,  and  a  line  of 
tall  misshapen  trees  bounded  the  onward  view. 
There  was  no  sight  or  sound  of  man  or  beast,  or 
any  living  thing,  although  behind  those'<- trees  was 
the  long-looked-for  place  of  rendezvous,  where  we 
fondly  hoped  to  have  found  the  Indians  congregated 
by  thousands.  We  looked  and  hstened  anxiously. 
We  pushed  forward  with  our  best  speed,  and  forced 
our  horses  through  the  trees.  There  were  copses  of 
some  extent  beyond,  with  a  scant}-  stream  creeping 
through  their  midst  ;  and  as  we  pressed  through  the 
yielding  branches,  deer  sprang  up  to  the  right  and 
left.  At  length  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  prairie 
beyond.  Soon  we  emerged  upon  it,  and  saw,  not  a 
plain  covered  with  encampments  and  swarming 
with  life,  but  a  vast  unbroken  desert,  stretching 
away  before  us  league  upon  league,  without  a  bush 
or  a  tree  or  anvthing  that  had  life.     We  drew  rein 


ILL  LUCK.  l8l 

and  gave  to  the  winds  our  sentiments  concerning 
the  whole  aboriginal  race  of  America.  Our  journey- 
was  in  vain,  and  much  worse  than  in  vain,  tor 
myself,  I  was  vexed  and  disappointed  beyond 
measure  ;  as  I  well  knew  that  a  slight  aggrava- 
tion of  my  disorder  would  render  this  false  step 
irrevocable,  and  make  it  quite  impossible  to  accom- 
plish effectually  the  design  which  had  led  me  an 
arduous  journey  of  between  three  and  four  thousand 
miles.  To  fortify  myself  as  well  as  I  could  agamst 
such  a  contingency,  I  resolved  that  I  would  not 
under  any  circumstances  attempt  to  leave  the  coun- 
try until  my  object  was  completely  gained. 

And  where  were  the  Indians?  They  were  as- 
sembled in  great  numbers  at  a  spot  about  twenty 
miles  distant,  and  there  at  that  very  moment  they 
were  engaged  in  their  warlike  ceremonies.  The 
scarcity 'of'' buffalo  in  the  vicinity  of  La  Bonte's 
camp,  which  would  render  their  supply  of  provisions 
scanty  and  precarious,  had  probably  prevented  them 
from  assembling  there  ;  but  of  all  this  we  knew 
nothing  until  some  weeks  after. 

Shaw  lashed  his  horse  and  galloped  forward.  I, 
though  much  more  vexed  than  he,  was  not  strong 
enough  to  adopt  this  convenient  vent  to  my  feel- 
ings ;  so  I  followed  at  a  quiet  pace,  but  in  no  quiet 
mood.  We  rode  up  to  a  solitary  old  tree,  which 
seemed  the  only  place  fit  for  an  encampment.  Half 
its  branches  were  dead,  and  the  rest  were  so  scan- 
tily furnished  with  leaves  that  they  cast  but  a  meagre 
and  wretched  shade,  and  the  old  twisted  trunk  alone 
furnished  sufficient  protection  from  the  sun.  We 
threw  down  our  saddles  in  the  strip  of  shadow  that 
it  cast,  and  sat  down  upon  them.  In  silent  indig- 
nation we  remained  smoking  for  an  hour  or  more, 
shifting  our  saddles  with  the  shifting  shadow,  for  the 
sun  was  intolerably  hot. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


HUNTING    INDIANS. 


"  I  tread, 
With  fainting  steps  and  slow. 
Where  wilds  immeasurably  spread 

Seem  lengthening  as  I  go." — GOLDSMITH. 

At  last  we  had  reached  La  Bonte's^amp,  toward 
which  our  eyes  had  turned  so  long.  Of  all  weary 
hours,  those  that  passed  between  noon  and  sunset 
of  the  day  when  we  arrived  there  may  bear  away 
the  palm  of  exquisite  discomfort.  I  lay  under  the 
tree  reflecting  on  what  course  to  pursue,  watching 
the  shadows  which  seemed  never  to  move,  and  thr 
sun  which  remained  fixed  in  the  sky,  and  hoping 
every  moment  to  see  the  men  and  horses  of  Bison- 
ette  emerging  from  the  woods.  Shaw  and  Henry 
had  ridden  out  on  a  scouting  expedition,  and  did 
not  return  until  the  sun  was  setting.  There  was 
nothing  very  cheering  in  their  faces  nor  in  the  news 
they  brought. 

"  We  have  been  ten  miles  from  here,"  said  Shaw. 
"We  climbed  the  highest  butte  we  could  find,  and 
could  not  see  a  buffalo  or  Indian  ;  nothing  but  prai- 
rie for  twenty  miles  around  us."  Henry's  horse 
was  quite  disabled  by  clambering  up  and  down  the 
sides  of  ravines,  and  Shaw's  was  severely  fatigued. 

After  supper  that  evening,  as  we  sat  around  the 
fire,  I  proposed  to  Shaw  to  wait  one  day  longer,  in 
hopes  of  Bisonette's  arrival,  and  if  he  should  not 
come,  to  send  Delorier  with  the  cart  and  baggage 
back  to  Fort  Laramie,  while  we  ourselves  followed 
the  Whirlwind's  village,  and  attempted  to  overtake 
it  '  s  it  passed  the  mountains.  Shaw,  not  having 
182 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  1 83 

the  same  motive  for  huhting  Indians  that  I  had,  was 
averse  to  the  plan  ;  I  therefore  resolved  to  go  alone. 
This  design  I  adopted  ver>-  unwillingly,  for  I  knew 
that  in  the  present  state  of  my  health  the  attempt 
would  be  extremely  unpleasant,  and,  as  I  considered, 
hazardous.  I  hoped  that  Bisonette  would  appear  in 
the  course  of  the  following  day,  and  bring  us  some 
information  by  which  to  direct  our  course,  and  en- 
able me  to  accomplish  my  purpose  by  means  less 
objectionable. 

The  rifle  of  Henr\-  Chatillon  was  necessar)-  for 
the  subsistence  of  the  party  in  my  absence  ;  so  I 
called  Raymond,  and  ordered  him  to  prepare  to  set 
out  with  me.  Raymond  rolled  his  eyes  vacantly 
about,  but  at  length,  having  succeeded  in  grappling 
with  the  idea,  he  withdrew  to  his  bed  under  the 
cart.  He  was  a  heavy-moulded  fellow,  with  a 
broad  face,  exactly  like  an  owl's,  expressing  the 
most  impenetrable  stupidity  and  entire  self-confi- 
dence. As  for  his  good  qualities,  he  had  a  sort  of 
stubborn  fidelity-,  an  insensibility  to  danger,  and  a 
kind  of  instinct  or  sagacity,  which  sometimes  led 
him  right,  where  better  heads  than  his  were  at  a 
loss.  Besides  this,  he  knew  ver)-  well  how  to  han- 
dle a  rifle  and  picket  a  horse. 

Through  the  following  day  the  sun  glared  down 
upon  us  with  a  pitiless,  penetrating  heat.  The  dis- 
tant blue  prairie  seemed  quivering  under  it.  The 
lodge  of  our  Indian  associates  was  baking  in  the 
rays,  and  our  rifles,  as  they  leaned  against  the  tree, 
were  too  hot  for  the  touch.  There  was  a  dead  si- 
lence through  our  camp  and  all  around  it,  unbroken 
except  by  the  hum  of  gnats  and  mosquitoes.  The 
men,  resting  their  foreheads  on  their  arms,  were 
sleeping  under  the  cart.  The  Indians  kept  close 
within  their  lodge,  except  the  newly  married  pair, 
who  were  seated  together  under  an  awning  of  buf- 


184  THE    OREGOAT  TRAIL. 

fklo-robes,  and  the  old  conjurer,  who,  with  his  hard, 
emaciated  face  and  gaunt  ribs,  was  perched  aloft 
like  a  turkey-buzzard  among  the  dead  branches 
of  an  old  tree,  constandy  on  the  lookout  for  ene 
mies.  He  would  have  made  a  capital  shot.  A 
rille  bullet,  skilfully  planted,  would  have  brought 
him  tumbling  to  the  ground.  Surely,  I  thought, 
there  could  be  no  more  harm  in  shooting  such  a 
hideous  old  \-illain,  to  see  how  ugly  he  would  look 
when  he  was  dead,  than  in  shooting  the  detestable 
vulture  which  he  resembled.  We  dined,  and  then 
Shaw  saddled  his  horse. 

"I  will  ride  back,"  said  he,  "to  Horse-Shoe 
Creek,  and  see  if  Bisonette  is  there. 

"  I  would  go  wth  you,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  must 
reser\'e  all  the  strength  I  have. 

The  afternoon  dragged  away  at  lasL  I  occupied 
myself  in  cleaning  my  rifle  and  pistols,  and  making 
other  preparations  for  the  journey.  After  supper, 
Henr)-  ChatiUon  and  I  lay  by  the  fire,  discussing 
the  properties  of  that  admirable  weapon,  the  rifle, 
in  the  use  of  which  he  could  fairly  out-rival  Leath- 
erstocking  himself. 

It  was  late  before  I  wrapped  myself  in  my  blanket 
and  lay  down  for  the  night,  with  my  head  on  my 
saddle.  Shaw  had  not  returned,  but  this  gave  us 
no  uneasiness,  for  we  presumed  that  he  had  fallen 
in  with  Bisonette,  and  was  spending  the  night  with 
him.  For  a  day  or  t«o  past  I  had  gained  in 
strei^th  and  health,  but  about  midnight  an  attack 
of  pain  awoke  me,  and  for  some  hours  I  felt  no  in- 
clination to  sleep.  The  moon  was  quivering  on  the 
broad  breast  of  the  Platte  ;  nothing  could  be  heard 
except  those  low  inexplicable  sounds,  like  whisper- 
ings and  footsteps,  which  no  one  who  has  spent  the 
night  alone  amid  deserts  and  forests  will  be  at  a  loss 
to  understand.     As  1  was  falling  asleep,  a  famiUar 


HUiXTING   INDIANS.  1 85 

voice,  shouting  from  the  distance,  awoke  me  again. 
A  rapid  step  approached  the  camp,  and  Shaw  on 
foot,  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  hastily  entered. 

"  Where's  your  horse  ?"  said  I,  raising  myself  on 
my  elbow. 

"  Lost  !"  said  Shaw.      "Where's  Delorier?  " 

"  There,"  I  replied,  pointing  to  a  confused  mass 
of  blankets  and  buffalo-robes. 

Shaw  touched  them  with  the  butt  of  his  gun,  and 
up  sprang  our  faithful  Canadian. 

"Come,  Delorier;  stir  up  the  fire,  and  get  me 
something  to  eat." 

"Where's  Bisonette .'"  asked  I. 

"The  Lord  knows;  there's  nobody  at  Horse- 
Shoe  Creek." 

Shaw  had  gone  back  to  the  spot  where  we  had 
encamped  two  days  before,  and  finding  nothing 
there  but  the  ashes  of  our  fires,  he  had  tied  his 
horse  to  the  tree  while  he  bathed  in  the  stream. 
Something  startled  his  horse,  who  broke  loose,  and 
for  two  hours  Shaw  tried  in  vain  to  catch  him. 
Sunset  approached,  and  it  was  twelve  miles  to  camp. 
So  he  abandoned  the  attempt,  and  set  out  on  foot  to 
join  us.  The  greater  part  of  his  perilous  and  soli- 
tar\'  work  was  performed  in  darkness.  His  mocca- 
sons  were  worn  to  tatters  and  his  feet  severely  lac- 
erated. He  sat  down  to  eat,  however,  with  the  usual 
equanimity-  of  his  temper  not  at  all  disturbed  by  his 
misfortune,  and  my  last  recollection  before  falling 
asleep  was  of  Shaw,  seated  cross-legged  before  the 
fire,  smoking  his  pipe.  The  horse,  I  may  as  well 
mention  here,  was  found  the  next  morning  by 
Henr\-  Chatillon. 

When  I  awoke  again  there  was  a  fresh  damp 
smell  in  the  air,  a  gray  twilight  involved  the  prairie, 
and  above  its  eastern  verge  was  a  streak  of  cold  red 
sky.     I  called  to  the  men,  and  in  a  moment  a  fire 


1 86  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

was  blazing  brightly  in  the  dim  morning  light,  and 
breakfast  was  getting  ready.  We  sat  down  together 
on  the  grass,  to  the  last  civilized  meal  which  Ra>-- 
mond  and  I  were  destined  to  enjoy  for  some  time. 

' '  Now  bring  in  the  horses. 

My  little  mare  Pauline  was  soon  standing  by  the 
fire.  She  was  a  fleet,  hardy,  and  gentle  animal, 
christened  after  Paul  Dorion,  fi-om  whom  1  had  pro- 
cured her  in  exchange  for  Pontiac.  She  did  not 
look  as  if  equipped  for  a  morning  pleasure  ride. 
In  front  of  the  black,  high-bowed  mountain-saddle, 
holsters,  with  heavy  pistols,  were  fastened.  A  pair 
of  saddle-bags,  a  blanket  tightly  rolled,  a  small 
parcel  of  Indian  presents  tied  up  in  a  buffalo-skin, 
a  leather  bag  of  flour,  and  a  smaller  one  of  tea  were 
all  secured  behind,  and  a  long  trail-rope  was  wound 
round  her  neck.  Raymond  had  a  strong  black 
mule,  equipped  in  a  similar  manner.  We  crammed 
our  powder-horns  to  the  throat,  and  mounted. 

"  I  -will  meet  you  at  Fort  Laramie  on  the  first 
of  August,"  said  I  to  Shaw. 

"  That  is."  replied  he,  "  if  we  don't  meet  before 
that.  I  think  I  shall  follow  after  you  in  a  day  or 
t«'o. 

This,  in  fact,  he  attempted,  and  he  would  have 
succeeded  if  he  had  not  encountered  obstacles 
against  which  his  resolute  spirit  was  of  no  avail. 
Two  days  after  1  left  him  he  sent  Delorier  to  the 
fort  with  the  cart  and  baggage,  and  set  out  for  the 
mountains  with  Henn,-  ChatiUon  ;  but  a  tremendous 
thunder-storm  had  deluged  the  prairie,  and  nearly 
obliterated  not  only  our  trail  but  that  of  the  Indians 
themselves.  They  followed  along  the  base  of  the 
mountains,  at  a  loss  in  which  direction  to  go.  They 
encamped  there,  and  in  the  morning  ShaAv  found 
himself  poisoned  by  i\"y  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  travel.      So  they  turned 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  1 87 

back  reluctantly  toward  Fort  Laramie.  Shaw's 
limbs  were  swollen  to  double  their  usual  size,  and 
he  rode  in  great  pain.  They  encamped  again  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  fort,  and  reached  it  early  on  the 
following  morning.  Shaw  lay  seriously  ill  for  a 
week,  and  remained  at  the  fort  till  I  rejoined  him 
some  time  after. 

To  return  to  my  own  story.  We  shook  hands 
with  our  friends,  rode  out  upon  the  prairie,  and 
clambering  the  sandy  hollows  that  were  channelled 
in  the  sides  of  the  hills,  gained  the  high  plains 
above.  If  a  curse  had  been  pronounced  upon  the 
land  it  could  not  have  worn  an  aspect  of  more 
dreary  and  forlorn  barrenness.  There  were  abrupt 
broken  hills,  deep  hollows,  and  wide  plains  ;  but  all 
alike  glared  with  an  insupportable  whiteness  under 
the  burning  sun.  The  country,  as  if  parched  by 
the  heat,  had  cracked  into  innumerable  fissures  and 
ravines,  that  not  a  little  impeded  our  progress. 
Their  steep  sides  were  white  and  raw,  and  along 
the  bottom  we  several  times  discovered  the  broad 
tracks  of  the  terrific  grizzly  bear,  nowhere  more 
abundant  than  in  this  region.  The  ridges  of  the 
hills  were  hard  as  rock,  and  strewn  with  pebbles 
of  flint  and  coarse  red  jasper  ;  looking  from  them, 
there  was  nothing  to  relieve  the  desert  uniformity 
of  the  prospect,  save  here  and  there  a  pine  tree 
clinging  at  the  edge  of  a  ravine,  and  stretching  over 
its  rough,  shaggy  arms.  Under  the  scorching  heat, 
these  melancholy  trees  diffused  their  peculiar  resin- 
ous odor  through  the  sultry  air.  There  was  some- 
thing in  it,  as  I  approached  them,  that  recalled  old 
associations  :  the  pine-clad  mountains  of  New  Eng- 
land, traversed  in  days  of  health  and  buoyancy, 
rose  like  a  reality  before  my  fancy.  In  passing 
that  arid  waste  I  was  goaded  with  a  morbid  thirst 
produced  by  my  disorder,  and  1  thought  with  a  long- 


1 88  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

ing  desire  on  the  crystal  treasure  poured  in  such 
wasteful  profusion  from  our  thousand  hills.  Shutting 
my  eyes,  I  more  than  half-believed  that  I  heard  the 
deep  plunging  and  gurgling  of  waters  in  the  bowels 
of  the  shaded  rocks.  I  could  see  their  dark  icy 
glittering  far  down  amid  the  crevices,  and  the  cold 
drops  trickling  from  the  long  green  mosses. 

When  noon  came,  we  found  a  little  stream  with  a 
few  trees  and  bushes  ;  and  here  we  rested  for  an 
hour.  Then  we  travelled  on,  guided  by  the  sun, 
until,  just  before  sunset,  we  reached  another  stream, 
called  Bitter  Cotton-wood  Creek.  A  thick  growth 
of  bushes  and  old  storm-beaten  trees  grew  at  inter- 
vals along  its  bank.  Near  the  foot  of  one  of  the 
trees  we  flung  down  our  saddles,  and  hobbling  our 
horses,  turned  them  loose  to  feed.  The  little  stream 
was  clear  and  swift,  and  ran  musically  over  its  white 
sands.  Small  water-birds  were  splashing  in  the 
shallows,  and  filling  the  air  with  their  cries  and  flut- 
terings.  The  sun  was  just  sinking  among  gold  and 
crimson  clouds  behind  Mount  Laramie.  I  well 
remember  how  I  lay  upon  a  log  by  the  margin 
of  the  water  and  watched  the  restless  motions  of 
the  little  fish  in  a  deep  still  nook  below.  Strange 
to  say,  I  seemed  to  have  gained  strength  since 
the  morning,  and  almost  felt  a  sense  of  returning 
health. 

We  built  our  fire.  Night  came,  and  the  wolves 
began  to  howl.  One  deep  voice  commenced,  and 
it  was  answered  in  awful  responses  from  the  hills, 
the  plains,  and  the  woods  along  the  stream  above 
and  below  us.  Such  sounds  need  not  and  do  not 
disturb  one's  sleep  upon  the  prairie.  We  picketed 
the  mare  and  the  mule  close  at  our  feet,  and  did 
not  awake  until  daylight.  Then  we  turned  them 
loose,  still  hobbled,  to  feed  for  an  hour  before  start- 
ing.    We  were  getting  ready  our  morning's  meal. 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  189 

when  Raymond  saw  an  antelope  at  half  a  mile' s  dis- 
tance, and  said  he  would  go  and  shoot  it. 

"Your  business,"  said  I,  "is  to  look  after  the 
animals.  I  am  too  weak  to  do  much  if  anything 
happens  to  them,  and  you  must  keep  within  sight 
of  the  camp." 

Raymond  promised,  and  set  out  with  his  rifle  in 
his    hand.      The   animals   had    passed   across   the 
stream,  and  were  feeding  among  the  long  grass  on 
the  other  side,  much  tormented  by  the  attacks  of  the 
numerous  large  green-headed  flies.     As  I  watched 
them,  I  saw  them  go  down  into  a  hollow,  and  as 
several  minutes  elapsed  without  their  reappearing, 
I  waded  through  the  stream  to  look  after  them.     To 
my  vexation  and  alarm  I  discovered  them  at  a  great 
distance,  galloping  away  at  full  speed,  Pauline  in 
advance,  with  her  hobbles  broken,  and  the  mule, 
still  fettered,  following  with  awkward  leaps.      I  fired 
my  rifle  and   shouted   to    recall   Raymond.     In   a 
moment  he  came  running  through  the  stream,  with 
a  red  handkerchief  bound  round  his  head.     I  pointed 
to  the  fugitives,  -and  ordered  him  to  pursue  them. 
Muttering  a  "  Sacre  !"   bet^veen  his  teeth,  he  set  out 
at  ftill  speed,  still  swinging  his  rifle  in  his  hand.     I 
walked  up  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  looking  away 
over  the  prairie,  could  just  distinguish  the  runaways, 
still  at  ftiU  gallop.     Returning  to  the  fire.  1  sat  down 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree.     Wearily  and  anxiously  hour 
after  hour  passed  away.     The  old  loose  bark  dan- 
gling from  the  trunk  behind  me  flapped  to  and  fro  in 
the  wind,  and  the  mosquitoes  kept  up  their  incessant 
drowsv  humming  ;  but  other  than  this,  there  was  no 
sight  nor  sound  of  life  throughout  the  burning  land- 
scape.    The  sun  rose  higher  and  higher,  until  the 
shadows  fell  almost  perpendicularly,  and   I  knew 
that  it  must  be  noon.      It  seemed  scarcely  possible 
that  the  anim^sjiould  be  recovered.     If  they  were 


A   r— kXX 


190  THE    ORE  G  OX   TRAIL. 

not.  ray  situation  was  one  of  serious  dimci:lt%'.  Shaw, 
vs-hen  I  left  him.  had  decided  :c  z:~.cve  that  morning, 
but  whither  he  had  not  determined.  To  look  for 
him  would  be  a  vain  attempt.  Fort  Laramie  was 
fort)-  miles  distant,  and  I  could  not  walk  a  mile 
without  great  effort.  Not  then  ha\-ing  learned  the 
sound  philosophy  of  Welding  to  disproportionate 
obstacles.  I  resolved  to  continue  in  any  event  the 
pursuit  of  the  Indians.  Only  one  plan  occurred  to 
me  :  this  was  to  send  Raymond  to  the  fort  with  an 
order  for  more  horses,  while  I  remained  on  the 
Sf>ot.  awaiting  his  return,  which  might  take  place 
within  three  days.  But  the  adoption  of  this  resolu- 
tion did  not  wholly  aUay  my  anxiet)',  for  it  involved 
both  uncertaint\"  and  danger.  To  remain  stationary 
and  alone  for  three  days,  in  a  countr^-  fiall  of  dan- 
gerous Indians,  was  not  the  most  flattering  of  pros- 
pects :  and  protracted  as  my  Indian  hunt  must  be  by 
such  delay,  it  was  not  eas\-  to  foretell  its  iJtimate 
result.  Revolving  these  maners.  I  grew  hungr\-  ; 
and  as  our  stock  of  pro\-isions.  except  four  or  five 
pounds  of  flour,  was  by  this  time  exhausted,  I  left 
the  camp  to  see  what  game  I  could  find.  Nothing 
could  be  seen  except  four  or  five  large  curlew, 
which,  with  their  loud  screaming,  were  wheeling 
over  my  head,  and  now  and  then  alighting  upon 
the  prairie.  I  shot  two  of  them,  and  was  about  re- 
turning, when  a  startling  sight  caught  my  eye.  A 
small,  dark  object,  hke  a  human  head,  suddenly 
appeared,  and  vanished  among  the  thick  bushes 
along  the  stream  below.  In  that  country-  every- 
stranger  is  a  suspected  enemy.  Instinctively  I 
threw  forward  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle.  In  a  moment 
the  bushes  were  \iolently  shaken,  two  heads,  but 
not  human  heads,  protruded,  and  to  my  great  joy  I 
recognized  the  downcast,  disconsolate  countenance 
of  the  black  mule  and  the  yeUow  \-isage  of  Pauline. 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  I9I 

Raymond  came  upon  the  mule,  pale  and  haggard, 
complaining  of  a  fier\'  pain  in  his  chest.  I  took 
charge  of  the  animals  while  he  kneeled  down  by  the 
side  of  the  stream  to  drink.  He  had  kept  the  run- 
aways in  sight  as  far  as  the  Side  Fork  of  Laramie 
Creek,  a  distance  of  more  than  ten  miles  ;  and  here 
with  great  difficulty  he  had  succeeded  in  catching 
them.  I  saw  that  he  was  unarmed,  and  asked  him 
what  he  had  done  with  his  rifle.  It  had  encumbered 
him  in  his  pursuit,  and  he  had  dropped  it  on  the 
prairie,  thinking  that  he  could  find  it  on  his  return  ; 
but  in  this  he  had  failed.  The  loss  might  prove  a 
ver)'  formidable  one.  I  was  too  much  rejoiced, 
however,  at  the  recover)^  of  .the  animals  to  think 
much  about  it ;  and  having  made  some  tea  for  Ray- 
mond in  a  tin  vessel  which  we  had  brought  with  us, 
I  told  him  that  I  would  give  him  two  hours  for  rest- 
ing before  we  set  out  again.  He  had  eaten  nothing 
that  day  ;  but  having  no  appetite,  he  lay  down  im- 
mediately to  sleep.  1  picketed  the  animals  among 
the  richest  grass  that  I  could  find,  and  made  fires  of 
green  wood  to  protect  them  from  the  flies  ;  then 
sitting  down  again  h\  the  tree,  1  watched  the  slow 
movements  of  the  sun,  begrudging  ever)-  moment 
that  passed. 

The  time  I  had  mentioned  expired,  and  I  awoke 
Raymond.  We  saddled  and  set  out  again,  but  first 
we  went  in  search  of  the  lost  rifle,  and  in  the  course 
of  an  hour  Raymond  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
it.  Then  we  turned  westward,  and  moved  over  the 
hills  and  hollows  at  a  slow  pace  toward  the  Black 
Hills.  The  heat  no  longer  tormented  us,  for  a  cloud 
was  before  the  sun.  Yet  that  day  shall  never  be 
marked  with  white  in  my  calendar.  The  air  began 
to  grow  fresh  and  cool,  the  distant  mountains  frowned 
more  gloomily,  there  was  a  low  muttering  of  thun- 
der, and  dense  black  masses  of  cloud  rose  heavily 


192  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

behind  the  broken  peaks.  At  first  they  were  g"ay]y 
fringed  ■with  silver  by  the  afternoon  sun  ;  but  soon 
the  thick  blackness  overspread  the  whole  sky,  and 
the  desert  around  us  was  "wrapped  in  deep  gloom. 
I  scarcely  heeded  it  at  the  time,  but  now  I  cannot 
but  feel  that  there  was  an  awful  sublimit}-  in  the 
hoarse  murmuring  of  the  thimder,  in  the  sombre 
shadows  that  involved  the  mountains  and  the  plain. 
The  storm  hrnl-p  It  came  upon  us  with  a  zigzag 
bSnding  flash,  "nith  a  terrific  crash  of  thimder,  and 
•with  a  hurricane  that  howled  over  the  prairie,  dash- 
ing floods  of  water  against  us.  Ra}-mond  looked 
around,  and  cursed  the  merciless  elements.  There 
seemed  no  shelter  near,  but  we  discerned  at  length 
a  deep  ra^-ine  gashed  in  the  level  prairie,  and  saw 
half-way  down  its  side  an  old  pine  tree,  whose 
rough  horizontal  boughs  formed  a  sort  of  pent- 
house against  the  tempest.  We  found  a  practi- 
cable passage,  and  hastily  descending,  fastened  our 
animals  to  some  large  loose  stones  at  the  bottom  ; 
then  climbing  up,  we  drew  our  blankets  over  our 
heads,  and  seated  ourselves  close  beneath  the  old 
tree.  Perhaps  I  was  no  competent  judge  of  time, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  were  sitting  there  a  fuU 
hour,  while  around  us  poured  a  deluge  of  rain, 
through  which  the  rocks  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
gulf  were  barely  \'isible.  The  first  burst  of  the 
tempest  soon  subsided,  but  the  rain  poured  steadily. 
At  length  Raymond  grew  impatient,  and  scram- 
bling out  of  the  ra\'ine,  he  gained  the  level  prairie 
above. 

"  \Miat  does  the  weather  look  like?"  asked  I, 
from  my  seat  under  the  tree. 

' '  It  looks  bad, ' '  he  answered  ;  ' '  dark  all  around, 
and  ag^ain  he  descended  and  sat  down  by  my  side. 
Some  ten  minutes  elapsed. 

"Go   up    again,"    said    I,     "and   take   ancther 


HUXTTXG   LVD  TANS.  1 93 

look  ;"  and  he  clambered  up  the  precipice.    "Well, 
how  is  it  ?' ' 

"Just  the  same,  only  1  see  one  little  bright  spot 
over  the  top  of  the  mountain." 

The  rain  by  this  time  had  begun  to  abate  ;  and 
going  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  we  loosened 
the  animals,  who  were  standing  up  to  their  knees  m 
water.  Leading  them  up  the  rocky  throat  of  the 
ravine,  we  reached  the  plain  above.  "Am  1." 
1  thought  to  myself,  "the  same  man  who,  a  few 
months  since,  was  seated,  a  quiet  student  of  belles- 
lettres,  in  a  cushioned  arm-chair  by  a  sea-coal 
fire?" 

All  around  us  was  obscurity  ;  but  the  bright  spot 
above  the  mountain-tops  grew  wider  and  ruddier, 
unril  at  length  the  clouds  drew  apart,  and  a  flood  of 
sunbeams  poured  down  from  heaven,  streaming 
along  the  precipices,  and  involving  them  in  a  thin 
blue  haze,  as  soft  and  lovely  as  that  which  wraps 
the  Apennines  on  an  evening  in  spring.  Rapidly 
the  clouds  were  broken  and  scattered,  like  routed 
legions  of  evil  spirits.  The  plain  lay  basking  in 
sunbeams  around  us  ;  a  rainbow  arched  the  desert 
from  north  to  south,  and  far  in  front  a  line  of  woods 
seemed  inviting  us  to  refreshment  and  repose. 
When  we  reached  them  they  were  glistening  with 
prismatic  dew-drops,  and  enlivened  by  the  songs 
and  flutterings  of  a  hundred  birds.  Strange  winged 
insects,  benumbed  by  the  rain,  were  clinging  to  the 
leaves  and  the  bark  of  the  trees. 

Raymond  kindled  a  fire  with  great  difficulty. 
The  animals  turned  eagerly  to  feed  on  the  soft  rich 
grass,  while  1,  wrapping  myself  in  my  blanket,  lay 
down  and  gazed  on  the  evening  landscape.  The 
mountains,  whose  stern  features  had  lowered  upon 
us  with  so  gloomy  and  awful  a  frown,  now  seemed 
lighted  up  with  a  serene,  benignant  smile,  and  the 

13 


194  T^E    OR  EG  ox  TRAIL. 

green  waring  undulations  of  the  plain  were  glad- 
dened with  the  rich  sunshine.  Wet,  ill,  and  wearied 
as  I  was,  my  spirit  grew  lighter  at  the  view,  and  I 
drew  from  it  an  augur)-  of  good  for  my  future  pros- 
pects. 

^^^len  moming  came  Raymond  awoke  coughing 
violently,  though  I  had  apparently  received  no  in- 
jury. We  mounted,  crossed  the  little  stream,  pushed 
through  the  trees,  and  began  our  journey  over  the 
plain  beyond.  And  now,  as  we  rode  slowly  along, 
we  looked  anxiously  on  every  hand  for  traces  of  the 
Indians,  not  doubting  that  the  village  had  passed 
somewhere  in  that  vicinity  ;  but  the  scanty  shriv- 
elled grass  was  not  more  than  three  or  four  inches 
high,  and  the  ground  was  of  such  unyielding  hard- 
ness that  a  host  might  have  marched  over  it  and 
left  scarcely  a  trace  of  its  passage.  Up  hill  and 
down  hill,  and  clambering  through  ravines,  we  con- 
tinued our  journey'.  As  we  were  skirting  the  foot 
of  a  hill  I  saw  Raymond,  who  was  some  rods  in 
advance,  suddenly  jerking  the  reins  of  his  mule. 
Sliding  from  his  seat,  and  running  in  a  crouching 
posture  up  a  hollow,  he  disappeared  ;  and  then  in 
an  instant  I  heard  the  sharp  quick  crack  of  his  rifle. 
A  wounded  antelope  came  nmning  on  three  legs 
over  the  hill.  1  lashed  Pauline  and  made  after 
him.  My  fleet  little  mare  soon  brought  me  by  his 
side,  and  after  leaping  and  bounding  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  vain,  he;  stood  still,  as  if  despairing  of 
escape.  His  glistening  eyes  turned  up  toward  my 
face  T\-ith  so  piteous  a  look  that  it  was  with  feeUngs 
of  infinite  compunction  that  1  shot  him  through  the 
head  with  a  pistol.  Raymond  skinned  and  cut  him 
up,  and  we  hung  the  fore-quarters  to  our  saddles, 
much  rejoiced  that  our  exhausted  stock  of  provisions 
was  renewed  in  such  good  time. 

Gaining  the  top  of  a  hill,  we  eould  see  along  the 


HUNTING  INDIANS.  1 95 

cloudy  verge  of  the  prairie  before  us  lines  of  trees 
and  shadowy  groves,  that  marked  the  course  of 
Laramie  Creek.  Some  time  before  noon  we  reached 
its  banks,  and  began  anxiously  to  search  them  for 
footprints  of  the  Indians.  We  followed  the  stream 
for  several  miles,  now  on  the  shore  and  now  wading 
in  the  water,  scrutinizing  ever)-  sand-bar  and  every 
muddy  bank.  So  long  was  the  search  that  we 
began  to  fear  that  we  had  left  the  trail  undiscovered 
behind  us.  At  length  1  heard  Raymond  shouting, 
and  saw  him  jump  from  his  mule  to  examine  some 
object  under  the  shelving  bank.  1  rode  up  to  his 
side.  It  was  the  clear  and  palpable  impression  of 
an  Indian  moccason.  Encouraged  by  this,  we  con- 
tinued our  search,  and  at  last  some  appearances  on 
a  soft  surface  of  earth  not  far  from  the  shore  at- 
tracted my  eye';  and  going  to  examine  them,  I 
found  half  a  dozen  tracks,  some  made  by  men  and 
some  by  children.  Just  then  Raymond  observed 
across  the  stream  the  mouth  of  a  small  branch, 
entering  it  from  the  south.  He  forded  the  water, 
rode  in  at  the  opening,  and  in  a  moment  I  heard 
him  shouting  again  ;  so  I  passed  over  and  joined 
him.  The  httle  branch  had  a  broad  sandy  bed, 
along  which  the  water  trickled  in  a  scanty  stream  ; 
and  on  either  bank  the  bushes  were  so  close  that  the 
view  was  completely  intercepted.  1  found  Ray- 
mond stooping  over  the  footprints  of  three  or  four 
horses.  Proceeding,  we  found  those  of  a  man,  then 
those  of  a  child,  then  those  of  more  horses  ;  and  at 
last  the  bushes  on  each  bank  were  beaten  dow  n  and 
broken,  and  the  sand  ploughed  up  with  a  multitude 
of  footsteps,  and  scored  across  with  the  furrows 
made  by  the  lodgc-poles  that  had  been  dragged 
through.  It  was  now  certain  that  we  had  foundthfi- 
trail.  I  pushed  through  the  bushes,  and  at  a  Tittle 
distance  on  the  prairie  beyond  found  the  ashes  of 


196  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

an  hundred  and  fiSy  lodge-fir^  widi  banes  and 
pieces  of  buffalo-robes  scattered  around  them,  and 
in  s(Hne  instances  die  pickets  to  which  horses  had 
been  secixred  sdll  standing  in  the  ground.  Flated 
by  our  success,  we  selected  a  conrenient  tree,  and 
turning  the  animals  loose,  prqiared  to  make  a  meal 
from  the  fat  haunch  of  om-  victim.  '    ^ 

Hardship  and  exposure  had  thirren  with  me 
wonderfully.  1  had  gained  both  health  and  stxa^lh 
since  lea%-ing  La  Bonte's  camp.  Raymond  and  I 
made  a  hearty  meal  together,  in  high  spiiits ;  tot 
we  rashly  presumed  that  having  fioond  one  end  vS. 
the  trail  we  should  have  little  difficulty  in  rparhing 
the  other.  But  when  the  animals  were  led  in,  we 
found  that  our  old  ill  luck  had  not  ceased  to  follow 
us  close.  As  I  was  '^Hdlincr  Pamliny^  f  saw  that  her 
eye  was  as  duU  as  lead,  and  the  hue  fA  her  ydlow 
coat  \-isibly  darkened.  I  placed  my  foot  in  the  stir- 
rup to  mount,  when  instantly  she  staggered  and  fell 
fiat  on  her  side.  Gainii^  Ynex  feet  with  an  e£fbit, 
she  stood  by  the  fire  with  a  diO(^nng  head.  Whether 
she  had  been  bitten  by  a  snake,  or  poisoned  by 
some  noxious  plant,  or  attack^  by  a  sudden  distx'- 
der.  it  was  hard  to  say  ;  but  at  all  events,  her  sick- 
nes;  was  sufficiently  ill-timed  and  unfortunate.  I 
succeeded  in  a  second  ailanpt  to  mount  her.  and 
with  a  slow  jaace  we  mcived  forward  on  the  tiail  of 
the  Indians.  It  led  us  up  a  hill  and  over  a  drearj^ 
plain  ;  and  here,  to  our  great  nuKtification.  the 
traces  almost  disappeared,  fitH*  the  ground  was  hard 
as  adamant ;  and  if  its  flinty  smibce  had  evo*  re- 
tained the  dint  of  a  hooC  the  marks  had  been  washed 
away  by  the  deh^e  of  yesterday.  An  Indian 
-village,  in  its  disordoly  march,  is  scattoed  over  the 
prairie,  often  to  the  width  fA  foil  half  a  mile ;  so 
that  i(s  trail  is  nowhere  deaily  marked,  and  the  task 
c^  following  it  is  made  doubly  weaiisoine  and  diffi- 


HUNTING  INDIANS.  1 97 

cult.  By  good  fortune,  plenty  of  large  ant-hills,  a 
yard  or  more  in  diameter,  were  scattered  over  the 
plain,  and  these  were  frequently  broken  by  the  foot- 
prints of  men  and  horses,  and  marked  by  traces  of 
the  lodge-poles.  The  succulent  leaves  of  the  prickly- 
pear,  also,  bruised  from  the  same  causes,  helped  a 
little  to  guide  us  ;  so.  inch  by  inch,  we  moved  along. 
Often  we  lost  the  trail  altogether,  and  then  would 
recover  it  again  :  but  late  in  the  afternoon  we  found 
ourselves  totally  at  fault.  We  stood  alone,  without 
a  clue  to  guide  us.  The  broken  plain  expanded  for 
league  after  league  around  us.  and  in  front  the  long 
dark  ridge  of  mountains  was  stretching  from  north 
to  south.  Mount  Laramie,  a  httle  on  our  right, 
towered  high  above  the  rest,  and  from  a  dark 
vallev  just  beyond  one  of  its  lower  declivities,  we 
discerned  volumes  of  white  smoke,  slowly  roUing 
up  into  the  clear  air. 

' '  I  think. ' '  said  Raymond. ' '  some  Indians  must  be 
there.  Perhaps  we  had  better  go. ' '  But  this  plan 
was  not  rashly  to  be  adopted,  and  we  determined 
still  to  continue  our  search  after  the  lost  trail.  Our 
good  stars  prompted  us  to  this  decision,  for  we  after- 
ward had  reason  to  beheve,  from  information  given 
us  by  the  Indians,  that  the  smoke  was  raised  as  a 
decoy  by  a  Crow  war-part\-. 

Evening  was  coming  on,  and  there  was  no  wood 
or  water  nearer  than  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  So 
thither  we  turned,  directing  our  course  toward  the 
point  where  Laramie  Creek  issues  forth  upon  the 
prairie.  When  we  reached  it,  the  bare  tops  of  the 
mountains  were  still  brightened  with  sunshine.  The 
little  river  was  breaking,  with  a  vehement  and 
angr>  current,  from  its  dark  prison.  There  was 
something  in  the  near  vicinit\-  of  the  mountains,  in 
the  loud  surging  of  the  rapids,  wonderfully  cheering 
and  e.xhilarating  ;  for  although  once  as  famiUar  as 


198  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

home  itself,  they  had  been  for  months  strangers  to 
my  experience.  There  was  a  rich  grass-plot  by  the 
river's  bank,  surrounded  by  low  ridges,  which  would 
effectually  screen  ourselves  and  our  fire  from  the 
sight  of  wandering  Indians.  Here,  among  the 
grass,  I  observed  numerous  circles  of  large  stones, 
which,  as  Raymond  said,  were  traces  of  a  Dahcotah 
winter  encampment.  We  lay  down,  and  did  not 
awake  till  the  sun  was  up.  A  large  rock  projected 
from  the  shore,  and  behind  it  the  deep  water  was 
slowly  eddying  round  and  round.  The  temptation 
was  irresistible.  I  threw  off  my  clothes,  leaped  in, 
suffered  myself  to  be  borne  once  roimd  with  the 
current,  and  then,  seizing  the  strong  root  of  a  water- 
plant,  drew  myself  to  the  shore.  The  effect  was  so 
invigorating  and  refreshing  that  I  mistook  it  for  re- 
turning health.  "  Pauhne,"  thought  I,  as  I  led  the 
little  mare  up  to  be  saddled,  "  only  thrive  as  1  do, 
and  you  and  I  will  have  sport  yet  among  the  buffalo 
bevond  these  mountains."  But  scarcely  were  we 
mounted  and  on  our  way,  before  the  momentary- 
glow  passed.  Again  I  hung  as  usual  in  my  seat, 
scarcely  able  to  hold  myself  erect. 

' '  Look  yonder, ' '  said  Raymond  ;  ' '  you  see  that 
big  hollow  there  ;  the  Indians  must  have  gone  that 
way,  if  they  went  anywhere  about  here. 

We  reached  the  gap,  which  was  like  a  deep  notch 
cut  into  the  mountain-ridge,  and  here  we  soon  dis- 
cerned an  ant-hill  furrowed  with  the  mark  of  a  lodge- 
pole.  This  was  quite  enough  ;  there  could  be  no 
doubt  now.  As  we  rode  on,  the  opening  growing 
narrower,  the  Indians  had  been  compelled  to  march 
in  closer  order,  and  the  traces  became  numerous 
and  distinct.  The  gap  terminated  in  a  rocky  gate- 
way, leading  into  a  rough  passage  upward,  betiveen 
two  precipitous  mountains.  Here  grass  and  weeds 
were  bruised  to  fragments  by  the  throng  that  had 


HUNTING    INDIANS.  199 

passed  through.     We  moved  slowly  over  the  rocks, 
up  the  passage  ;  and  in  this  toilsome  manner  we 
advanced  for  an  hour  or  two.  bare  precipices   hun- 
dreds  of  feet   high,    shooting  up   on   either   hand. 
Ravmond.    with  his  hardy  mule,  was  a  few   rods 
before  me.  when  we  came  to  the  foot  of  an  ascent 
steeper  than  the  rest,   and  which  I  trusted  might 
prove   the   highest   point    of    the    defile.      Pauline 
strained   upward    for   a   few    yards     moaning   and 
stumbling,  and  then  came  to  a  dead  stop,  unable  to 
proceed  'farther.      I  dismounted,  and  attempted  to 
lead  her  ;  but  my  own  exhausted  strength  soon  gave 
out  •  so  1  loosened  the  trail-rope  from  her  neck,  and 
t^'in'g  it  round  mv  arm,  crawled  up  on  my  hands 
and  knees.     I  gained  the  top,  totally  exhausted,  the 
sweat-drops  trickling  from  my  forehead      Pauline 
stood  like  a  statue  by  my  side,  her  shadow  falling 
upon  the  scorching  rock  ;    and  in  this   shade,   for 
there  was  no  other.  I  lay  for  some  time,  scarcely 
able  to  move  a  limb.     All  around  the  black  crags, 
sharp  as  needles  at  the  top,  stood  glowing  m  the 
sun,  without  a  tree  or  a  bush  or  a  blade  of  grass  to 
cover   their   precipitous    sides.     The  whole    scene 
seemed  parched  with  a  pitiless,  insufferable  heat. 

After  awhile  1  could  mount  again,  and  we  moved 
on,  descending  the  rocky  defile  on  its  western  side. 
Thinking  of  that  morning's  journey,  it  has  some- 
times seemed  to  me  that  there  was  something  ridic- 
ulous in  mv  position  :  a  man,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
but  whoUv' unable  to  fight,  and  equally  so  to  run 
away,  traversing  a  dangerous  wilderness,  on  a  sick 
horse  But  these  thoughts  were  retrospective,  tor  at 
the  time  1  was  in  too  grave  a  mood  to  entertain  a 
ven*-  Uvely  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  ,  •,      t 

Ravmond- s  saddle-girth  slipped;  and  while  1 
proceeded  he  was  stopping  behind  to  repair  the  mis- 
chief     I  came  to  the  top  of  a  little  declivity,  where 


200  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

a  mc'St  Avelcome  siglit  greeted  my  eye ;  a  nook  of 
fresh  green  grass  nestled  among  the  difi^  sunny 
clumps  of  bushes  on  one  side,  and  shaggy  old  |Mne 
trees  leaning  forward  from  die  rocks  on  tiae  odier. 
A  shrill,  familiar  voice  saluted  me,  and  recalled  me 
to  days  of  boyhood  ;  that  of  the  insect  called  the 
' '  locust ' '  by  New  England  school-boys,  which 
was  fast  cHnging  among  the  heated  boti^;lis  dL  the 
old  pine  trees.  TTien,  too.  as  I  passed  the  bushes. 
the  low  sound  of  felling  water  reached  my  ear. 
Pauline  turned  oi  her  own  accord,  and  pudiing 
through  the  boughs,  we  found  a  black  lock,  over- 
arched by  the  cool  green  canopy.  An  icy  stream 
was  pouring  from  its  side  into  a  wide  basin  erf*  white 
sand,  from  whence  it  had  no  visible  outlet,  but 
filtered  throv^  into  the  scnl  bdow.  Wliile  1  filled 
a  tin  cup  at  die  spring,  FauMne  was  eageriy  plm^ii^ 
her  head  deqp  in  die  pooL  Other  visadbors  had  been 
there  before  us.  All  around  in  the  stdbi  s«l  wete  the 
footprints  of  elk.  deer,  and  die  Rocky  Mountain 
sheep  ;  and  the  grizzl}'  bear  too  had  left  die  recent 
prints  of  his  broad  foot,  widi  its  frightfid  anay  of 
claws.     Among  these  mountains  was  his  home. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  ^ling  we  found  a  little 
grassy  plain,  encircled  by  the  mountains,  and 
marked,  to  our  great  joy.  with  all  the  traces  vA  an 
Indian  camp.  Ra\-mond's  practised  eye  detected 
certain  signs,  by  which  he  recognized  the  ^)ot  where 
Reynal's  lodge  had  bem  pitched  and  his  horses 
picketed.  I  approached,  and  stood  lookii^  at  the 
place.  Re}TiaJ  and  I  had.  I  belie^'e,  hardly  a  fisd- 
ing  in  common.  I  HidilrtHl  die  fellow,  and  it  per- 
plexed me  a  good  deal  to  understand  why  I  ^onld 
look  with  so  much  interest  on  the  ashes  o€  his  fire. 
when  between  him  and  me  there  seemed  no  other 
bond  of  sxTnpathy  than  the  slender  and  precarious 
one  of  a  kindred  race. 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  20I 

In  half  an  hour  from  this  we  were  clear  of  the 
mountains.     There  was  a  plain  before  us.  totally 
barren  and  thickly  peopled  in  many  parts  with  the 
little  prairie-dogs,  who   sat  at  the   mouths  of  their 
burrows  and  velped  at  us  as  we  passed.     The  plain 
as  we  thought,  was  about  six  miles  wide  ;  but  it  cost 
us  two  hours  to  cross  it.     Then  another  mountain- 
ranc^e  rose  before  use,  grander  and  more  wild  than 
the'iast  had  been.      Far  out  of  the  dense  shrubbery 
that  clothed  the  steeps  for  a  thousand  feet  shot  up 
black  crags,  all  leaning  one  way.  and  shattered  by 
storms   and   thunder    into   grim    and    threatening 
shapes.     As  we  entered  a   narrow  Passage  on  the 
trail  of  the   Indians,   they  impended  fnghtfully  on 
one  side,  above  our  heads.  i,    j    ^-^ 

Our  course  was  through  dense  woods,  in  the  shade 
and   twinkling    sunlight    of    overhanging    boughs. 
I  would  1  could  recall  to  mind  all  the  startling  combi- 
nations that  presented  themselves,  as  winding  from 
side  to  side  of  the  passage,  to  avoid  its  obstructions. 
we  could  see.  glancing  at  intervals  through  the  foli- 
acre     the   awful   forms  of  the    gigantic    clitfs,    that 
seemed  at  times  to  hem  us  in  on  the  nght  and  on 
the  left,  before  us  and  behind  :     Another  scene  in 
a  few   moments   greeted   us  ;  a  tract  of  gay  and 
sunnv  woods,  broken  into  knolls  and  hollows,  en- 
livened  bv  birds   and    interspersed    with    flowers 
Amon-  the  rest  1  recognized  the  mellow  whistle  ot 
the  rolDin.  an  old  familiar  friend,  whom  I  had  scarce 
expected  to  meet  in  such  a  place.     Bumble-bees  too 
v'ere  buzzing  heavily  about  the  flowers;    and   of 
these  a  species  of  larkspur  caught  my  eye.   more 
appropriate,  it  should  seem,  to  cultivated  gardens 
than  to  a  remote  wilderness.      Instantly  it  recalled  a 
multitude  of  dormant  and  delightful  recollections. 

Leavin-  behind  us  this  spot  and  its  associations, 
a  si-ht  soon  presented  itself  characteristic  of  that 


202  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

warlike  region.  In  an  open  space,  fenced  in  by 
high  rocks,  stood  two  Indian  forts,  of  a  square  form, 
rudely  built  of  sticks  and  logs.  They  were  some- 
what ruinous,  ha\'ing  probably  been  constructed  the 
year  before.  Each  might  have  contained  about 
twent\-  men.  Perhaps  in  this  gloomy  spot  some 
party  had  been  beset  by  their  enemies,  and  those 
scowling  rocks  and  blasted  trees  might  not  long 
since  have  looked  down  on  a  conflict  unchronicled 
and  unknown.  Yet  if  any  traces  of  bloodshed  re- 
mained they  were  completely  hidden  by  the  bushes 
and  tall  rank  weeds. 

Gradually  the  mountains  drew  apart,  and  the  pas- 
sage e.xpanded  into  a  plain,  where  again  we  found 
traces  of  an  Indian  encampment.,.  There  were  trees 
and  bushes  just  before  us,  and  we  stopped  here  for 
an  hours  rest  and  refreshment,  ^\^len  we  had  fin- 
ished our  meal,  Raymond  struck  fire,  and  lighting 
his  pipe,  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  to  smoke. 
For  some  time  I  obsened  him  puffing  away  with  a 
face  of  unusual  solemnity.  Then,  slowly  taking  the 
pipe  from  his  lips,  he  looked  up  and  remarked  that 
we  had  better  not  go  any  farther. 

"Why  not?"  asked  I. 

He  said  that  the  countr}-  was  becoming  ven,'  dan- 
gerous, that  we  were  entering  the  range  of  the  .Snakes, 
Arapahoes,  and  Gros- ventre  Blackfeet,  and  that  if 
any  of  their  wandering  parties  should  meet  us,  it 
would  cost  us  our  lives  ;  but  he  added,  with  a  blunt 
fidelit)-  that  nearly  reconciled  me  to  his  stupiditj-, 
that  he  would  go  anywhere  I  wished.  I  told  him  to 
bring  up  the  animals,  and  mounting  them  we  pro- 
ceeded again.  I  confess  that,  as  we  moved  for- 
ward, the  prospect  seemed  but  a  drearj-  and  doubtful 
one.  I  would  have  given  the  world  for  my  ordinary- 
elasticity-  of  body  and  mind,  and  for  a  horse  of 
such   strength  and  spirit  as  the   journey  required. 


HUNTIXG   IXDIAXS.  203 

Closer  and  closer  the  rocks  gathered  around  us, 
growino-  taller  and  steeper,  and  pressing  more  and 
more  upon  our  path.    We  entered  at  length  a  defile 
which  I  never  have  seen  rivalled.     The  mountam 
was  cracked  from  top  to  bottom,  and  we  were  creep- 
ing along  the  bottom  of  the  fissure,  in  dampness  and 
gloom,  with  the  clink  of  hoofs  on  the  loose  shingly 
rocks,  and  the  hoarse  murmuring  of  a  petulant  brook 
which  kept  us  company.      Sometimes  the  water, 
filming  among  the  stones,  overspread  the  whole 
narrow"  passage  ;    sometimes,   withdrawing    to  one 
side,  it  gave  us  room  to  pass  dn,-shod.     Looking 
up,  we  could  see  a  narrow  ribbon  of  bright  blue  sky 
between  the  dark  edges  of  the  opposing  cUflTs.     This 
did  not  last  long.     The  passage  soon  widened,  and 
sunbeams  found  their  way  down,  flashing  upon  the 
black  waters.     The  defile  would  spread  out  to  many 
rods  in   width  :    bushes,   trees,    and  flowers  would 
spring  bv  the  side  of  the  brook  ;  the  cliffs  would  be 
feathered  with  shrubber)-  that  clung  in  ever\-  crev- 
ice, and  fringed   with  trees  that  grew  along  their 
sunny  edges.     Then  we  would  be  moving  again  in 
the  darkness.     The  passage  seemed  about  four  miles 
long,  and  before  we  reached  the  end  of  it  the  unshod 
hoo'fs  of  our  animals  were  lamentably  broken,  and 
their  legs  cut  by  the  sharp  stones.      Issuing  from  the 
mountain  we  found  another  plain.     All  around  it 
stood  a  circle  of  lofty  precipices,  that  seemed  the 
impersonation  of  Silence  and  Solitude.     Here  again 
the  Indians  had  encamped,  as  well  they  might,  after 
passing,  with  their  women,    children,  and  horses, 
through  the  gulf  behind  us.      In  one  day  we  had 
made''  a  journey  which    had    cost    them    three  to 
accomplish. 

The  onlv  outlet  to  this  amphitheatre  lay  over  a 
hill  some  two  hundred  feet  high,  up  which  we  moved 
with  difficult^-.     Looking  from  the  top,  we  saw  that 


204  THE    OREGO.V  TRAIL. 

at  last  we  were  free  of  the  mountains.  The  prairie 
spread  before  us,  but  so  wild  and  broken  that  the 
view  was  everywhere  obstructed.  Far  on  our  left 
one  tall  hill  swelled  up  against  the  sky,  on  the 
smooth,  pale-green  surface  of  which  four  slowly 
moving  black  specks  were  discernible.  They  were 
evidently  buffalo,  and  we  hailed  the  sight  as  a  good 
augur}-  ;  for  where  the  buffalo  were  there  too  the 
Indians  would  probably  be  found.  We  hoped  on 
that  ver\'  night  to  reach  the  village.  We  were  anx- 
ious to  do  so  for  a  double  reason,  wishing  to  bring 
our  wearisome  journey  to  an  end,  and  knowing, 
moreover,  that  though  to  enter  the  village  in  broad 
daylight  would  be  a  perfectly  safe  experiment,  yet 
to  encamp  in  its  vicinity  would  be  dangerous.  But 
as  we  rode  on  the  sun  was  sinking,  and  soon  was 
within  half  an  hour  of  the  horizon.  We  ascended 
a  hill  and  looked  around  us  for  a  spot  for  our  en- 
campment. The  prairie  was  like  a  turbulent 
ocean,  suddenly  congealed  when  its  waves  were  at 
the  highest,  and  it  lay  half  in  light  and  half  in 
shadow,  as  the  rich  sunshine,  yellow  as  gold,  was 
pouring  over  it.  The  rough  bushes  of  the  wild 
sage  were  growing  ever\  where,  its  dull  pale  green 
overspreading  hill  and  hollow.  Yet  a  little  way 
before  us  a  bright  verdant  line  of  grass  was  winding 
along  the  plain,  and  here  and  there  throughout  its 
course  water  was  glistening  darkly.  We  went  down 
to  it,  kindled  a  hre,  and  turned  our  horses  loose  to 
feed.  It  was  a  little  trickling  brook,  that  for  some 
yards  on  either  bank  turned  the  barren  prairie  into 
fertility,  and  here  and  there  it  spread  into  deep 
pools,  where  the  beaver  had  dammed  it  up. 

We  placed  our  last  remaining  piece  of  the  ante- 
lope before  a  scanty  fire,  mournfully  reflecting  on 
our  exhausted  stock  of  provisions.  Just  then  an 
enormous  gray  hare,  peculiar  to  these  prairies,  came 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  20$ 

jumping  along,  and  seated  himself  within  fifty  yards 
to  look  at  us.  I  thoughtlessly  raised  my  rifle  to 
shoot  him,  but  Raymond  called  out  to  me  not  to  fire 
for  fear  the  report  should  reach  the  ears  of  the  In- 
dians. That  night  for  the  first  time  we  considered 
that  the  danger  to  which  we  were  exposed  was 
of  a  somewhat  serious  character ;  and  to  those 
who  are  unacquainted  with  Indians  it  may  seem 
strange  that  our  chief  apprehensions  arose  from  the 
supposed  proximity  of  the  people  whom  we  intended 
to  visit.  Had  any  straggling  party  of  these  faithful 
friends  caught  sight  of  us  from  the  hill-lop,  they 
would  probably  have  returned  in  the  night  to  plun- 
der us  of  our  horses  and  perhaps  of  our  scalps.  But 
we  were  on  the  prairie,  where  the  genius  loci  is  at 
war  with  all  nervous  apprehensions  ;  and  1  presume 
that  neither  Raymond  nor  1  thought  twice  of  the 
matter  that  evening. 

While  he  was  looking  after  the  animals,  I  sat  by 
the  fire,  engaged  in  the  novel  task  of  baking  bread. 
The  utensils  were  of  the  most  simple  and  primitive 
kind,  consisting  of  two  sticks  inclining  over  the  bed 
of  coals,  one  end  thrust  into  the  ground  while  the 
dough  was  twisted  in  a  spiral  form  around  the  other. 
Under  such  circumstances  all  the  epicurean  in  a 
man's  nature  is  apt  to  awaken  within  him.  I  re- 
visited in  fancy  the  far-distant  abodes  of  good  fare, 
not,  indeed,  Frascati's  or  the  Trois  Freres  Proven- 
^aux,  for  that  were  too  extreme  a  flight  ;  but  no 
other  than  the  homely  table  of  my  old  friend  and 
host,  Tom  Crawford,  of  the  White  Mountains.  By 
a  singular  revulsion,  Tom  himself,  whom  1  well 
remember  to  have  looked  upon  as  the  impersonation 
of  all  that  is  wild  and  backwoodsman-like,  now  ap- 
peared before  me  as  the  ministering  angel  of  com- 
fort and  good  living.  Being  fatigued  and  drowsy,  I 
began  to  doze,  and  my  thoughts,  following  the  same 


206  THE    ORE G OX  TRAIL. 

train  of  association,  assumed  another  form.  Half- 
dreaming,  I  saw  myself  surrounded  -with  the  moun- 
tains of  New  England,  alive  -vnxh.  water-falls,  their 
black  crags  cinctured  with  nulk-white  mists.  For 
diis  reverie  I  paid  a  speedy  penaltj*  ;  for  the  bread 
was  black  on  one  side  and  soft  on  the  other. 

For  eagfat  hours  Ra\-mond  and  I,  pillowed  on  our 
5ai^)e^  lay  insensible  as^ogs.  Pauline's  yellow 
head  wasstre^hed  over  me  when  I  awoke.  I  got  up 
and  examined  her.  Her  feet,  indeed,  were  bruised 
and  swollen  by  the  accidents  of  yesterday,  but  her 
eye  was  brighter,  her  motions  livelier,  and  her  mys,- 
terious  malad}'  had  \-isibly  abated.  We  moved  on, 
hopii^  widiin  an  hour  to  come  in  sight  of  the  In- 
dian village  ;  but  again  disappointment  awaited  us. 
The  trail  disappeared,  melting  away  upon  a  hard 
and  stony  plain.  Raymond  and  1  separating,  rode 
frcMn  side  to  side,  scrutinizing  ever)-  yard  of  ground, 
until  at  \eoglii.  I  discerned  traces  of  the  lodge-poles, 
pacqng  by  the  side  of  a  ridge  of  rocks.  We  began 
again  to  fidlow  them. 

■*  *  What  is  that  black  spot  out  there  on  the  prairie  X ' 

'-It  looks  hke  a  dead  buffalo,"  answered  Ray- 
mond. 

We  rode  out  to  it,  and  found  it  to  be  the  huge 
carcass  of  a  bull  killed  by  the  hunters  as  they  had 
passed.  Tangled  hair  and  scraps  of  hide  were 
scadeted  all  aroond,  for  the  wolves  had  been  mak- 
ing meny  over  it,  and  had  hollowed  out  the  entire 
carcass.  It  was  covered  vtith  myriads  of  large 
Mack  crickets,  and  from  its  appearance  must  cer- 
tainly have  lain  there  for  four  or  five  days.  The 
9ght  was  a  most  disheartening  one,  and  I  observed 
to  Raiinond  diat  the  Indians  might  still  be  fifty 
or  axty  miles  before  us.  But  he  shook  his  head, 
and  rq>lied  that  they  dared  not  go  so  far  for  fear  of 
dior  enemies,  the  Snakes. 


HUXTIXG   IXDIAXS.  20/ 

Soon  after  this  we  lost  the  trail  again,  and  ascended 
a  neighboring  ridge,  totally  at  a  loss.  Before  us 
lay  a  plain  perfectly  flat,  spreading  on  the  right  and 
left,  without  apparent  limit,  and  bounded  in  front 
by  a  long  broken  line  of  hills,  ten  or  twelve  miles 
distant.  All  was  open  and  exposed  to  view,  yet 
not  a  buffalo  nor  an  Indian  was  visible. 

'  •  Do  you  see  that  ?' '  said  Raymond  ;  ' '  now  we 
had  better  turn  around. 

But  as  Raymond's  bourgeois  thought  otherwise, 
we  descended  the  hill  and  began  to  cross  the  plain. 
We  had  come  so  far  that  1  knew,  perfectly  well, 
neither  Pauline's  hmbs  nor  my  own  could  carr^-  me 
back  to  Fort  Laramie.  I  considered  that  the  lines 
of  expediency  and  inclination  tallied  exactly,  and 
..  that  the  most  prudent  course  was  to  keep  forward. 
The  gFOtmd— immediately  around  us  was  thickly 
strewn  with- the  skulls  and  bones  of  buffalo,  for  here 
a  year  or  two  before  the  Indians  had  made  a  "  sur- 
round ' ' ;  yet  no  living  game  presented  itself.  At 
length,  however,  an  antelope  sprang  up  and  gazed 
at  us.  We  fired  together,  and  by  a  singular  fatalit>' 
we  both  missed,  although  the  animal  stood,  a  fair 
mark,  within  eighty  yards.  This  ill  success  might 
perhaps  be  charged  to  our  own  eagerness,  for  by 
this  time  we  had  no  provision  left  except  a  little 
flour.  We  could  discern  several  small  lakes,  or 
rather  extensive  pools  of  water,  glistening  in  the 
distance.  As  we  approached  them,  wolves  and  an- 
telope bounded  away  through  the  tall  grass  that 
gre%v  in  their  vicinity,  and  flocks  of  large  white 
plover  flew  screaming  over  their  surface.  Having 
failed  of  the  antelope.  Raymond  tried  his  hand  at 
the  birds,  with  the  same  ill  success.  The  water 
also  disappointed  us.  Its  muddy  margin  was  so 
beaten  up  by  the  crowd  of  buffalo  that  our  timorous 
animals  were  afraid   to   approach.     So  we   turned 


2o8  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

away  and  moved  toward  the  hills.  The  rank  grass, 
where  it  was  not  trampled  down  by  the  buffalo, 
fairly  swept  our  horses"  necks. 

Again  we  found  the  same  execrable  barren  prai- 
rie, offering  no  clue  by  which  to  guide  our  way. 
As  we  drew  near  the  hills,  an  opening  appeared, 
through  which  the  Indians  must  have  gone  if  they 
had  passed  that  way  at  all.  Slowly  we  began  to 
ascend  it.  I  felt  the  most  drean,-  forebodings  of  ill 
success,  when,  on  looking  around,  I  could  discover 
neither  dent  of  hoof  nor  footprint  nor  trace  of  lodge- 
pole,  though  the  passage  was  encumbered  by  the 
ghastly  skulls  of  buffalo.  We  heard  thunder  mut- 
tering ;  a  storm  was  coming  on. 

As  we  gained  the  top  of  the  gap,  the  prospect 
beyond  began  to  disclose  itself.  First,  we  saw  a 
long  dark  hne  of  ragged  clouds  upon  the  horizon, 
while  above  them  rose  the  peak  of  the  Medicine- 
Bow,  the  vanguard  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  :  then 
little  by  little  the  plain  came  into  \aew,  a  vast  green 
uniformit\-,  forlorn  and  tenantless,  though  Laramie 
Creek  glistened  in  a  wa\ing  line  over  its  surface, 
without  a  bush  or  a  tree  upon  its  banks.  As  yet, 
the  round  projecting  shoulder  of  a  hill  intercepted  a 
part  of  the  \dew.  I  rode  in  advance,  when  sud- 
denly I  could  distinguish  a  few  dark  spots  on  the 
prairie,  along  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

*•  Buffalo  !"  said  I.  Then  a  sudden  hope  flashed 
upon  me.  and  eagerly  and  anxiously  1  looked  again. 

"  Horses  I"  exclaimed  Raymond,  with  a  tre- 
mendous oath,  lashing  his  mule  forward  as  he 
spoke.  More  and  more  of  the  plain  disclosed 
itself,  and  in  rapid  succession  more  and  more  horses 
appeared,  scattered  along  the  river -bank,  or  feeding 
in  bands  over  the  prairie.  Then,  suddenly  stand- 
ing in  a  circle  by  the  stream,  swarming  with  their 
savage  inhabitants,  we  saw  rising  before  us  the  tall 


THE    OGILLALLAH    VILLAGE.         2O9 

lodges  of  the  Ogillallah.  Never  did  the  heart  of 
wanderer  moregTadden  at  the  sight  of  home  than 
did  mine  at  the  sight  of  those  wild  habitations  ! 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE. 

"  They  waste  as — ay — like  April  snow. 
In  the  warm  noon,  we  shrink  away ; 
And  fast  they  follow,  as  we  go 

Towards  the  setting  day." — BRYANT. 

Such  a  narrative  as  this  is  hardly  the  place  for 
portraying  the  mental  features  of  the  Indians.  The 
same  picture,  slightly  changed  in  shade  and  color- 
ing, would  serve,  with  ven,-  few  exceptions,  for  all 
the  tribes  that  He  north  of  the  Mexican  territories. 
But  with  this  striking  similaritv'  in  their  modes  of 
thought,  the  tribes  of  the  lake  and  ocean  shores,  of 
the  forests  and  of  the  plains,  differ  greatly  in  their 
manner  of  life.  Having  been  domesticated  for 
several  weeks  among  one  of  the  wildest  of  the  wild 
hordes  that  roam  over  the  remote  prairies,  I  had 
extraordinary'  opportunities  of  observing  them,  and 
I  flatter  myself  that  a  faithful  picture  of  the  scenes 
that  passed  daily  before  my  eyes  may  not  be  de\oid 
of  interest  and  value.  These  men  were  thorough 
savages.  Neither  their  manners  nor  their  ideas 
were  ih  the  slightest  degree  modified  by  contact  with 
civilization.  They  knew  nothing  of  the  power  and 
real  character  of  the  white  men,  and  their  children 
would  scream  in  terror  at  the  sight  of  me.  Their 
religion,  their  superstitions,  and  their  prejudices 
were  the  same  that  had  been  handed  down  to  them 
from  immemorial  time.  They  fought  with  the  same 
rt    — ■' 


210  THE    OREGO.y  TRAIL. 

weapons  that  their  fathers  fought  \\'ith,  and  wore  the 
same  rude  garments  of  skins. 

Great  changes  are  at  hand  in  that  region.  With 
the  stream  of  emigration  to  Oregon  and  Cahfomia, 
the  buffalo  will  dwindle  away,  and  the  large  wan- 
dering communities  who  depend  on  them  for  sup- 
port must  be  broken  and  scattered.  The  Indians 
will  soon  be  corrupted  by  the  example  of  the  whites, 
abased  by  whiskey,  and  overawed  by  military  posts  ; 
so  that  within  a  few  years  the  tra\eller  may  pass  in 
tolerable  securit)-  through  their  countn,-  on  the  Pacific 
Railroad.  Its  danger  and  its  charm  will  have  disap- 
peared together. 

As  soon  as  Raymond  and  I  discovered  the  village 
from  the  gap  in  the  hills,  we  were  seen  in  our  turn  ; 
keen  eyes  were  constantly  on  the  watch.  As  we 
rode  down  upon  the  plain,  the  side  of  the  A-illage 
nearest  us  was  darkened  ^^■ith  a  crowd  of  naked 
figures  gathering  around  the  lodges.  Several  men 
came  forward  to  meet  us.  I  could  distinguish  among 
them  the  green  blanket  of  the  Frenchman  Reynal. 
^^^len  we  came  up  the  ceremony  of  shaking  hands 
had  to  be  gone  through  with  in  due  form,  and  then 
all  were  eager  to  know  what  had  become  of  the  rest 
of  my  part)-.  I  satisfied  them  on  this  point,  and  we 
all  moved  forward  together  toward  the  village. 

"You've  missed  it,"  said  Reynal;  "if  you'd 
been  here  day  before  yesterday,  you'd  have  found 
the  whole  prairie  over  yonder  black  with  buffalo  as 
far  as  ycu  could  see.  There  were  no  cows,  though  ; 
nothing  but  bulls.  We  made  a  '  surround '  every- 
day till  yesterday.  See  the  village  there  ;  dont 
that  look  like  good  hving  ?' ' 

In  fact,  I  could  see,  even  at  that  distance,  that 
long  cords  were  stretched  from  lodge  to  lodge,  over 
which  the  meat,  cut  by  the  squaws  into  thin  sheets, 
was  hanging  to  drv  in  the  sun.      I  noticed,  too,  that 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         211 

the  village  was  somewhat  smaller  than  when  I  had 
last  seen  it,  and  1  asked  Reynal  the  cause.  He 
said  that  old  Le  Borgne  had  felt  too  weak  to  pass 
over  the  mountains,  and  so  had  remained  behind 
with  all  his  relations,  including  Mahto-Tatonka  and 
his  brothers.  The  Whirlwind,  too.  had  been  un- 
willing to  come  so  far,  because,  as  Reynal  said,  he 
was  afraid.  Only  half  a  dozen  lodges  had  adhered 
to  him.  the  main  body  of  the  village  setting  their 
chiefs  authority-  at  naught,  and  taking  the  course 
most  agreeable  to  their  inclinations. 

' '  What  chiefs-  are  there  in  the  village  now  ?' ' 
said  1. 

"Well,"  said  Reynal,  "there's  old  Red- Water, 
and  the  Eagle-Feather,  and  the  Big  Crow,  and  the 
Mad  Wolf,  and  the  Panther,  and  the  White-Shield, 
and — what' s  his  name  ? — the  half-breed  Shienne. 

By  this  time  we  were  close  to  the  village,  and  I 
obser\-ed  that  while  the  greater  part  of  the  lodges 
•were  ven.-  large  and  neat  in  their  appearance,  there 
was  at  one  side  a  cluster  of  squalid,  miserable  huts. 
I  looked  toward  them,  and  made  some  remark 
about  their  wretched  appearance.  But  I  was  touch- 
ing upon  delicate  ground. 

"My  squaw's  relations  live  in  those  lodges," 
said  Reynal,  very  warmly,  "and  there  isn't  a  better 
set  in  the  whole  village. 

"  Are  there  any  chiefs  among  them  ?"  asked  I. 

"Chiefs?"   said  Reynal  :   "  yes,  plent\' !" 

"  What  are  their  names  ?"    I  inquired. 

"Their  names?  Why,  there's  the  Arrow-Head. 
If  he  isn't  a  chief  he  ought  to  be  one.  And  there's 
the  Hail-Storm.  He's  nothing  but  a  boy,  to  be 
sure  ;  but  he's  bound  to  be  a  chief  one  of  these  days  I" 

Tust  then  we  passed  between  two  of  the  lodges, 
and  entered  the  great  area  of  the  village.  Superb, 
naked  figures  stood  silently  gazing  on  us. 


212  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

"^^^lere's  the  Bad  Wound's  lodge?"  said  I  to 
Reynal. 

' '  There  you'  ve  missed  it  again  I  The  Bad  Wound 
is  away  with  the  Whirlwind.  If  you  could  have 
found  him  here,  and  gone  to  hve  in  his  lodge,  he 
would  have  treated  you  better  than  any  man  in  the 
village.  But  there's  the  Big  Crow's  lodge  yonder, 
next  to  old  Red- Water's.  He's  a  good  Indian  for 
the  whites,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  and  live  ^dtb 
him. 

• '  Are  there  many  squaws  and  children  in  his 
lodge?"  said  I. 

' '  No  ;  only  one  squaw  and  tvvo  or  three  children. 
He  keeps  the  rest  in  a  separate  lodge  by  them- 
selves. 

So,  still  followed  by  a  crowd  of  Indians,  Raymond 
and  I  rode  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  Big  Crow's 
lodge.  A  squaw  came  out  immediately  and  took 
our  horses.  I  put  aside  the  leather  flap  that  cov- 
ered the  low  opening,  and  stooping,  entered  the  Big 
Crow' s  dwelling.  There  I  could  see  the  chief  in  the 
dim  light,  seated  at  one  side,  on  a  pile  of  buffalo- 
robes.  He  greeted  me  with  a  guttural  ■  •  How,  cola  !" 
I  requested  Reynal  to  tell  him  that  Raymond  and  I 
were  come  to  live  with  him.  The  Big  Crow  gave 
another  low  exclamation.  If  the  reader  thinks  that 
we  were  intruding  somewhat  cavalierly,  I  beg  him 
to  observe  that  ever)-  Indian  in  the  village  would 
have  deemed  himself  honored  that  white  men  should 
give  such  preference  to  his  hospitalit}-. 

The  squaw  spread  a  buffalo-robe  for  us  in  the 
guest' s  place  at  the  head  of  the  lodge.  Our  saddles 
were  brought  in,  and  scarcely  were  we  seated  upon 
them  before  the  place  was  thronged  w-ith  Indians, 
who  came  crowding  in  to  see  us.  The  Big  Crow 
produced  his  pipe  and  filled  it  -with  the  mixture  of 
tobacco  and  shoijgsasha,  or  red  willow  bark.     Round 


THE    OG  ILL  ALL  AH    VILLAGE.        2I3 

and  round  it  passed,  and  a  lively  conversation  went 
forward.  Meanwhile  a  squaw  placed  before  the  t\vo 
guests  a  wooden  bowl  of  boiled  buffalo-meat,  but, 
unhappily,  this  was  not  the  only  banquet  destined 
to  be  inflicted  on  us.  Rapidly,  one  after  another, 
boys  and  young  squaws  thrust  their  heads  in  at  the 
opening,  to  invite  us  to  various  feasts  in  ditterent 
parts  of  the  village.  For  half  an  hour  or  more  we 
were  actively  engaged  in  passing  from  lodge  to 
lodge,  tasting  in  each  of  the  bowl  of  meat  set  before 
us,  and  inhaling  a  whiff  or  two  from  our  entertainer"  s 
pipe.  A  thunder-storm  that  had  been  threatening 
for  some  time  now  began  in  good  earnest.  We 
crossed  over  to  Reynals  lodge,  though  it  hardly 
deserved  this  name,  for  it  consisted  only  of  a  few 
old  buffalo-robes  supported  on  poles,  and  was  quite 
open  on  one  side.  Here  we  sat  down,  and  the  In- 
dians gathered  around  us. 

' '  What  is  it, ' '  said  I ,  "  that  makes  the  thunder  ?' ' 
"It's  my  belief,"  said  Reynal,  "that  it  is  a  big 
stone  roUing  over  the  sky." 

"  Verv-  likely,"  1  replied  ;  "but  I  want  to  know 
what  the  Indians  think  about  it." 

So  he  interpreted  my  question,  which  seemed  to 
produce  some  doubt  and  debate.  There  was  evi- 
dently a  difference  of  opinion.  At  last  old  Mene- 
Seela,  or  Red- Water,  who  sat  by  himself  at  one 
side,  looked  up  ^\-ith  his  withered  face,  and  said  he 
had  always  kno\\-n  what  the  thunder  was.  It  was  a 
great  black  bird  ;  and  once  he  had  seen  it,  in  a 
dream,  swooping  down  from  the  Black  Hills,  ^^^th 
its  loud  roaring  wings  ;  and  when  it  flapped  them 
over  a  lake,  they  struck  hghtning  from  the  water. 

"The  thunder  is  bad,"  said  another  old  man, 
who  sat  muffled  in  his  buffalo-robe  ;  "he  killed  my 
brother  last  summer." 

Reynal,  at  my  request,  asked  for  an  explanation  ; 


214  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

but  the  old  man  remained  doggedly  silent,  and 
would  not  look  up.  Some  time  after  I  learned  how 
the  accident  occurred.  The  man  who  was  killed 
belonged  to  an  association  which,  among  other 
mystic  functions,  claimed  the  exclusive  power  and 
privilege  of  fighting  the  thunder.  Whenever  a 
storm  which  they  wished  to  avert  was  threatening, 
the  thunder  fighters  would  take  their  bows  and 
arrows,  their  guns,  their  magic  drum,  and  a  sort  of 
whistle,  made  out  of  the  wing-bone  of  the  war- 
eagle.  Thus  equipped,  they  would  run  out  and  fire 
at  the  rising  cloud,  whooping,  yelling,  whistling, 
and  beating  their  drum  to  frighten  it  down  again. 
One  afternoon  a  heavy  black  cloud  was  coming  up, 
and  they  repaired  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  where  they 
brought  all  their  magic  artillery  into  play  against  it. 
But  the  undaunted  thunder,  refusing  to  be  terrified, 
kept  moving  straight  onward,  and  darted  out  a 
bright  flash  which  struck  one  of  the  party  dead,  as 
he  was  in  the  verj'  act  of  shaking  his  long  iron- 
pointed  lance  against  it.  The  rest  scattered  and 
ran  yelling  in  an  ecstasy  of  superstitious  terror  back 
to  their  lodges. 

The  lodge  of  my  host,  Kongra  Tonga,  or  the  Big 
Crow,  presented  a  picturesque  spectacle  that  even- 
ing. A  score  or  more  of  Indians  were  seated 
around  it  in  a  circle,  their  dark  naked  forms  just 
visible  by  the  dull  light  of  the  smouldering  fire  in 
the  centre.  The  pipe  glowing  brightly  in  the  gloom 
as  it  passed  from  hand  to  hand  around  the  lodge. 
Then  a  squaw  would  drop  a  piece  of  buffalo-fat  on 
the  dull  embers.  Instantly  a  bright  glancing  flame 
would  leap  up,  darting  its  clear  light  to  the  very 
apex  of  the  tall  conical  structure,  where  the  tops  of 
the  slender  poles  that  supported  its  covering  of 
leather  were  gathered  together.  It  gilded  the  feat- 
ures of  the  Indians,  as  with  animated  gestures  they 


rilE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         21$ 

sat  around  it,  telling  their  endless  stories  of  war  and 
hunting.  It  displayed  rude  garments  of  skins  that 
hung  around  the  lodge  ;  the  bow,  quiver,  and  lance, 
suspended  over  the  resting-place  of  the  chief,  and 
the  rifles  and  powder-horns  of  the  two  white  guests. 
For  a  moment  all  would  be  bright  as  day  ;  then  the 
flames  would  die  away,  and  fitful  flashes  from  the 
embers  would  illumine  the  lodge,  and  then  leave  it 
in  darkness.  Then  all  the  light  would  wholly  fade, 
and  the  lodge  and  all  within  it  be  involved  again  in 
obscurity.  — --" 

As  I  left  the  lodge  next  morning  1  was  saluted  by 
howling  and  yelping  from  all  around  the  village, 
and  half  its  canine  population  rushed  forth  to  the 
attack.  Being  as  cowardly  as  they  were  clamorous, 
they  kept  jumping  around  me  at  the  distance  of  a 
few  yards,  only  one  little  cur,  about  ten  inches  long, 
having  spirit  enough  to  make  a  direct  assault.  He 
dashed  valiantly  at  the  leather  tassel  which  in  the 
Dahcotah  fashion  was  traihng  behind  the  heel  of  my 
moccason,  and  kept  his  hold,  growling  and  snarling 
all  the  while,  though  every  step  I  made  almost 
jerked  him  over  on  his  back.  As  I  knew  that  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  village  were  on  the  watch  to  see 
if  I  showed  any  sign  of  apprehension,  I  walked  for- 
ward without  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  surrounded 
wherever  I  went  by  this  magic  circle  of  dogs.  When 
I  came  to  Reynal's  lodge  I  sat  down  by  it,  on  which 
the  dogs  dispersed  growling  to  their  respective  quar- 
ters. Only  one  large  white  one  remained,  who  kept 
running  about  before  me  and  showing  his  teeth.  I 
called  him,  but  he  only  growled  the  more.  I  looked 
at  him  well.  He  was  fat  and  sleek  ;  just  such  a 
dog  as  I  wanted.  "  My  friend,"  thought  I,  "you 
shall  pay  for  this  !  I  will  have  you  eaten  this  very 
morning  !" 

I  intended  that  day  to  give  the  Indians  a  feast,  by 


I 


2J6  TI/£    OREGON  TRAIL. 

way  of  conveying  a  favorable  impression  of  my 
character  and  dignity  ;  and  a  white  dog  is  the  dish 
which  the  customs  of  the  Dahcotah  prescribe  for  all 
occasions  of  formality  and  importance.  I  consulted 
Reynal  ;  he  soon  discovered  that  an  old  woman  in 
the  next  lodge  was  owner  of  the  white  dog.  I  took 
a  gaudy  cotton  handkerchief,  and  laying  it  on  the 
ground,  arranged  some  vermilion,  beads,  and  other 
trinkets  upon  it.  Then  the  old  squaw  was  sum- 
moned. I  pointed  to  the  dog  and  to  the  handkerchief. 
She  gave  a  scream  of  delight,  snatched  up  the  prize, 
and  vanished  with  it  into  her  lodge.  For  a  few 
more  trifles  I  engaged  the  services  of  two  other 
squaws,  each  of  whom  took  the  white  dog  by  one 
of  his  paws,  and  led  him  away  behind*llre  Todges, 
while  he  kept  looking  up  at  them  with  a  face  of  in- 
nocent surprise.  Having  killed  him  they  threw  him 
into  a  fire  to  singe  ;  then  chopped  him  up  and  put 
him  into  two  large  kettles  to  boil.  Meanwhile  I  told 
Raymond  to  irs  in  buffalo-fat  what  little  flour  we  had 
left,  and  also  to  make  a  kettle  of  tea  as  an  addi- 
tional item  of  the  repast. 

The  Big  Crow's  squaw  was  briskly  at  work  sweep- 
ing out  the  lodge  for  the  approaching  festivity.  I 
confided  to  my  host  himself  the  task  of  inviting  the 
guests,  thinking  that  1  might  thereby  shift  from  my 
own  shoulders  the  odium  of  fancied  neglect  and 
oversight. 

\Mien  feasting  is  in  question,  one  hour  of  the  day 
serves  an  Indian  as  well  as  another.  My  enter- 
tainment came  off  about  eleven  o'clock.  At  that 
hour,  Reynal  and  Raymond  walked  across  the  area 
of  the  village,  to  the  admiration  of  the  inhabitants, 
carrying  the  two  kettles  of  dog-meat  slung  on  a  pole 
between  them.  These  they  placed  in  the  centre  of 
the  lodge,  and  then  went  back  for  the  bread  and 
the  tea.     Meanwhile  I  had  put  on  a  pair  of  brilliant 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         21/ 

moccasons,  and  substituted  for  my  old  buck-skin 
frock  a  coat  which  I  had  brought  with  me  in  view  of 
such  pubhc  occasions.  I  also  made  careful  use  of 
the  razor,  an  operation  which  no  man  will  neglect 
who  desires  to  gain  the  good  opinion  of  Indians. 
Thus  attired,  I  seated  myself  between  Reynal  and 
Raymond  at  the  head  of  the  lodge.  Only  a  few 
minutes  elapsed  before  all  the  guests  had  come  in 
and  were  seated  on  the  ground,  wedged  together  in 
a  close  circle  around  the  lodge.  Each  brought  with 
him  a  wooden  bowl  to  hold  his  share  of  the  repast. 
When  all  were  assembled,  two  of  the  officials,  called 
"soldiers"  by  the  white  men,  came  forward  with 
ladles  made  of  the  horn  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
sheep,  and  began  to  distribute  the  feast,  always  as- 
signing a  double  share  to  the  old  men  and  chiefs. 
The  dog  vanished  with  astonishing  celerity,  and 
each  guest  turned  his  dish  bottom  upward  to  show 
that  all  was  gone.  Then  the  bread  was  distributed 
in  its  turn,  and  finally  the  tea.  As  the  soldiers 
poured  it  out  into  the  same  wooden  bowls  that  had 
served  for  the  substantial  part  of  the  meal,  1  thought 
it  had  a  particularly  curious  and  uninviting  color. 

"  Oh  !"  said  Reynal,  "  there  was  not  tea  enough, 
so  I  stirred  some  soot  in  the  kettle,  to  make  it  look 
strong." 

Fortunately  an  Indian's  palate  is  not  very  dis- 
criminating. The  tea  was  well  sweetened,  and  that 
was  all  they  cared  for. 

Now,  the  former  part  of  the  entertainment  being 
concluded,  the  time  for  speech-making  was  come. 
The  Big  Crow  produced  a  flat  piece  of  wood  on 
which  he  cut  up  tobacco  and  s/iont^^saska,  and  mixed 
them  in  due  proportions.  The  pipes  were  filled  and 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  around  the  company. 
Then  I  began  my  speech^  each  sentence  being  in- 
terpreted by  ReynaT  as'l  went  on,  and  echoed  by 


fl8  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

the  whole  audience  with  the  usual  exclamations  of 
assent  and  approval.  As  nearly  as  I  can  recollect, 
it  was  as  follows  : 

"  I  had  come,  I  told  them,  from  a  countrj^  so  far 
distant,  that  at  tie  rate  they  travel,  they  could  not 
reach  it  in  a  year. 

"  How  !  how  !" 

"  There  the  Meneaska  were  more  niunerous  than 
the  blades  of  grass  on  the  prairie.  The  squaws 
were  far  more  beautiful  than  any  they  had  ever  seen, 
and  all  the  men  were  brave  warriors." 

"  How  1  how  !  how  !" 

Here  I  was  assailed  by  sharp  twinges  of  con- 
science, for  I  fancied  I  could  perceive  a  frag^rance 
of  perfumer}'  in  the  air,  and  a  vision  rose  before  me 
of  white-kid  gloves  and  silken  moustaches  with  the 
mild  and  gentle  countenances  of  numerous  fair- 
haired  young  men.  But  I  recovered  myself  and 
began  again. 

' '  While  I  was  hAing  in  the  Meneaska  lodges,  I 
had  heard  of  the  Ogillallah,  how  great  and  brave  a 
nation  they  were,  how  they  loved  the  whites,  and 
how  well  they  could  hunt  the  bufifalo  and  strike 
their  enemies.  I  resolved  to  come  and  see  if  all 
that  I  heard  was  true." 

"  How  !  how  1  how  !  how  !"' 

"As  I  had  come  on  horseback  through  the 
mountains,  I  had  been  able  to  bring  them  only  a 
very-  few  presents." 

"  How  !" 

"  But  I  had  enough  tobacco  to  give  them  all  a 
small  piece.  They  might  smoke  it,  and  see  how 
much  better  it  was  than  the  tobacco  which  they  got 
from  the  traders." 

"  How  !  how  I  how  !" 

"I  had  plent}'  of  j>owder,  lead,  knives,  and 
tobacco  at  Fort  Laramie.     These  I  was  anxious  to 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         219 

give  them,  and  if  any  of  them  should  come  to  the 
fort  before  I  went  away,  I  would  make  them  hand- 
oome  presents." 

"  How  !  how  !  how  I  how  !" 

Raymond  then  cut  up  and  distributed  among 
them  two  or  three  pounds  of  tobacco,  and  old 
Mene-Seela  began  to  make  a  reply.  It  was  quite 
long,  but  the  following  was  the  pith  of  it  : 

"  He  had  always  loved  the  whites.  They  were 
the  wisest  people  on  earth.  He  believed  they  could 
do  everything,  and  he  was  always  glad  when  any 
of  them  came  to  hve  in  the  Ogillallah  lodges.  It 
was  true  I  had  not  made  them  many  presents,  but 
the  reason  of  it  was  plain.  It  was  clear  that  I  liked 
them,  or  I  never  should  have  come  so  far  to  find 
their  village." 

Several  other  speeches  of  similar  import  followed, 
and  then  this  more  serious  matter  being  disposed  of, 
there  was  an  interval  of  smoking,  laughing,  and 
conversation  ;  but  old  Mene-Seela  suddenly  inter- 
rupted it  with  a  loud  voice  : 

"Now  is  a  good  time,"  he  said,  "when  all  the 
old  men  and  chiefs  are  here  together,  to  decide 
what  the  people  shall  do.  We  came  over  the 
mountain  to  make  our  lodges  for  next  year.  Our 
old  ones  are  good  for  nothing  ;  they  are  rotten  and 
worn  out.  But  we  have  been  disappointed.  We 
have  killed  buffalo-bulls  enough,  but  we  have  found 
no  herds  of  cows,  and  the  skins  of  bulls  are  too 
thick  and  heavy  for  our  squaws  to  make  lodges  of. 
There  must  be  plenty  of  cows  about  the  Medicine- 
Bow  Mountain.  We  ought  to  go  there.  To  be 
sure,  it  is  farther  westward  than  we  have  ever  been 
before,  and  perhaps  the  Snakes  will  attack  us,  for 
those  hunting-grounds  belong  to  them.  But  we 
must  have  new  lodges  at  any  rate  ;  our  old  ones 
will  not  serve  for  another  year.     We  ought  not  to  be 


220  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

afraid  of  the  Snakes.  Our  warriors  are  brave,  and 
they  are  all  ready  for  war.  Besides,  we  have  three 
white  men  with  their  rifles  to  help  us." 

I  could  not  help  thinking  that  the  old  man  relied 
a  little  too  much  on  the  aid  of  allies,  one  of  whom 
was  a  coward,  another  a  blockhead,  and  the  third 
an  invaUd.  This  speech  produced  a  good  deal  of 
debate.  As  Reynal  did  not  interpret  what  was  said, 
I  could  only  judge  of  the  meaning  by  the  features 
and  gestures  of  the  speakers.  At  the  end  of  it, 
however,  the  greater  number  seemed  to  have  fallen 
in  with  Mene-Seela's  opinion.  A  short  silence  fol- 
lowed, and  then  the  old  man  struck  up  a  discordant 
chant,  which  I  was  told  was  a  song  of  thanks  for  the 
entertainment  I  had  given  them. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "let  us  go  and  give  the  white 
men  a  chance  to  breathe." 

So  the  company  all  dispersed  into  the  open  air, 
and  for  some  time  the  old  chief  was  walking  around 
the  village,  singing  his  song  in  praise  of  the  feast, 
after  the  usual  custom  of  the  nation. 

At  last  the  day  drew  to  a  close,  and  as  the  sun 
went  down  the  horses  came  trooping  from  the  sur- 
rounding plains  to  be  picketed  before  the  dwellings 
of  their  respective  masters.  Soon  within  the  great 
circle  of  lodges  appeared  another  concentric  circle 
of  restless  horses  ;  and  here  and  there  fires  were 
glowing  and  flickering  amid  the  gloom,  on  the 
dusky  figures  around  them.  1  went  over  and  sat  by 
the  lodge  of  Reynal.  The  Eagle-Feather,  who  was 
a  son  of  Mene-Seela,  and  brother  of  my  host  the 
Big  Crow,  was  seated  there  already,  and  I  asked 
him  if  the  village  would  move  in  the  morning.  He 
shook  his  head,  and  said  that  nobody  could  tell,  for 
since  old  Mahto-Tatonka  had  died,  the  people  had 
been  like  children  that  did  not  know  their  own 
minds.     Thev  were  no  better  than  a  bodv  without  a 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         221 

head.  So  I,  as  well  as  the  Indians  themselves,  fell 
asleep  that  night  without  knowing  whether  we 
should  set  out  in  the  morning  toward  the  countr)-  of 

the  Snakes. 

ATHaybreak,  however,  as  I  was  coming  up  from 
the  river  after  my  morning's  ablutions,  1  saw  that  a 
movement  was  contemplated.  Some  of  the  lodges 
were  reducea~to  nothing  but  bare  skeletons  of  poles  ; 
the  leather  covering  of  others  was  flapping  in  the 
wind  as  the  squaws  were  pulling  it  off.  One  or 
two  chiefs  of  note  had  resolved,  it  seemed,  on 
moving  ;  and  so  having  set  their  squaws  at  work, 
the  example  was  tacitly  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
village.  One  by  one  the  lodges  were  sinking  down 
in  rapid  succession,  and  where  the  great  circle  of 
the  village  had  been  only  a  moment  before,  nothing 
now  remained  but  a  ring  of  horses  and  Indians, 
crowded  in  confusion  together.  The  ruins  of  the 
lodges  were  spread  over  the  ground,  together  with 
kettles,  stone  mallets,  great  ladles  of  horn,  buffalo- 
robes,  and  cases  of  painted  hide,  filled  with  dried 
meat.  Squaws  bustled  about  in  their  busy  prepara- 
tions, the  old  hags  screaming  to  one  another  at  the 
stretch  of  their  leathern  lungs.  The  shaggy  horses 
were  patiently  standing  while  the  lodge-poles  were 
lashed  to  their  sides,  and  the  baggage  piled  upon 
their  backs.  The  dogs,  with  their  tongues  lolling 
out,  lay  lazily  panting  and  waiting  for  the  time  of 
departure.  Each  warrior  sat  on  the  ground  by  the 
decaying  embers  of  his  fire,  unmoved  amid  all  the 
confusion,  while  he  held  in  his  hand  the  long  trail- 
rope  of  his  horse. 

As  their  preparations  were  completed,  each 
family  moved  off  the  ground.  The  crowd  was 
rapidly  melting  away.  1  could  see  them  crossing 
the  river,  and  passing  in  quick  succession  along  the 
profile  of  the  hill  on  the  farther  bank.     When  all 


222  THE    OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

were  gone,  I  mounted  and  set  out  after  them,  fol- 
lowed by  Raymond,  and  as  we  gained  the  summit, 
the  whole  village  came  in  view  at  once,  straggling 
away  for  a  mile  or  more  over  the  barren  plains  be- 
fore us.  Everywhere  the  iron  points  of  lances  were 
glittering.  The  sun  never  shone  upon  a  more 
strange  array.  Here  were  the  heavy-laden  pack- 
horses,  some  wretched  old  women  leading  them, 
and  tivo  or  three  children  clinging  to  their  backs. 
Here  were  mules  or  ponies  covered  from  head  to 
tail  with  gaudy  trappings,  and  mounted  by  some 
gay  young  squaw,  grinning  bashfulness  and  pleas- 
ure as  the  Meneaska  looked  at  her.  Boys  with 
miniature  bows  and  arrows  were  wandering  over 
the  plains,  little  naked  children  were  running 
along  on  foot,  and  numberless  dogs  were  scam- 
pering among  the  feet  of  the  horses.  The  young 
braves,  gaudy  with  paint  and  feathers,  were  riding 
in  groups  among  the  crowd,  and  often  galloping, 
t^vo  or  three  at  once  along  the  line,  to  tr)-  the 
speed  of  their  horses.  Here  and  there  you  might 
see  a  rank  of  sturdy  pedestrians  stalking  along 
in  their  white  buffalo-robes.  These  were  the 
dignitaries  of  the  village,  the  old  men  and  war- 
riors, to  whose  age  and  experience  that  wandering 
democracy  pelded  a  silent  deference.  With  the 
rough  prairie  and  the  broken  hills  for  its  back- 
ground, the  restless  scene  was  striking  and  pic- 
turesque beyond  description.  Days  and  weeks 
made  me  familiar  with  it,  but  never  impaired  its 
eft'ect  upon  my  fancy. 

As  we  moved  on,  the  broken  column  grew  yet 
more  scattered  and  disorderly,  until,  as  we  ap- 
proached the  foot  of  a  hill,  1  saw  the  old  men  be- 
fore mentioned  seating  themselves  in  a  hne  upon 
the  ground,  in  advance  of  the  whole.  They 
lighted  a  pipe  and  sat  smoking,  laughing,  and  tell- 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         223 

ing  stories,  while  the  people,  stopping  as  they  suc- 
cessively came  up,  were  soon  gathered  in  a  crowd 
behind  them.  Then  the  old  men  rose,  drew  their 
buffalo-robes  over  their  shoulders,  and  strode  on  as 
before.  Gaining  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  found  a 
very  steep  declivity  before  us.  There  was  not  a 
minute's  pause.  The  whole  descended  in  a  mass, 
amid  dust  and  confusion.  The  horses  braced  their 
feet  as  they  slid  down,  women  and  children  were 
screaming,  dogs  yelping  as  they  were  trodden  upon, 
while  stones  and  earth  went  rolling  to  the  bottom. 
In  a  few  moments  I  could  see  the  village  from  the 
.summit,  spreading  again  far  and  wide  over  the 
plain  below. 

At  our  encampment  that  afternoon  1  was  attacked 
anew  by  my  old  disorder.  In  half  an  hour  the 
strength  that  I  had  been  gaining  for  a  week  past 
had  vanished  again,  and  I  became  like  a  man  in  a 
dream.  But  at  sunset  I  lay  down  in  the  Big  Crow's 
lodge  and  slept,  totally  unconscious  till  the  morning. 
The  first  thing  that  awakened  me  was  a  hoarse  flap- 
ping over  my  head,  and  a  sudden  light  that  poured 
in  upon  me.  The  camp  was  breaking  up,  and  the 
squaws  were  moving  the  covering  from  the  lodge. 
I  arose  and  shook  off  my  blanket  with  the  feeling 
of  perfect  health  ;  but  scarcely  had  I  gained  my 
feet  when  a  sense  of  my  helpless  condition  was 
once  more  forced  upon  me,  and  1  found  myself 
scarcely  able  to  stand.  Raymond  had  brought  up 
Pauline  and  the  mule,  and  1  stooped  to  raise  my 
saddle  from  the  ground.  My  strength  was  quite  in- 
adequate to  the  task.  "You  must  saddle  her," 
said  I  to  Raymond,  as  I  sat  down  again  on  a  pile 
of  buffalo-robes  : 

"  Et  hoec  etiam  fortasse  meminisse  juvabit," 
I  thought,  while  with  a  painful  effort  I  raised  my- 


224  "^HE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

self  into  the  saddle.  Half  an  hour  after  even  the 
expectation  that  Virgil's  line  expressed  seemed  des- 
tined to  disappointment.  As  we  were  passing  over 
a  great  plain,  surrounded  by  long  broken  ridges,  I 
rode  slowly  in  advance  of  the  Indians,  with  thoughts 
that  wandered  far  from  the  time  and  from  the  place. 
Suddenly  the  sky  darkened,  and  thunder  began  to 
mutter.  Clouds  were  rising  over  the  hills,  as  dreary 
and  dull  as  the  first  forebodings  of  an  approaching 
calamity  ;  and  in  a  moment  all  around  was  ^^-rapped 
in  shadow.  I  looked  behind.  The  Indians  had 
stopped  to  prepare  for  the  approaching  storm,  and 
the  dark,  dense  mass  of  savages  stretched  far  to 
the  right  and  left.  Since  the  first  attack  of  my 
disorder  the  effects  of  rain  upon  me  had  usually 
been  injurious  in  the  extreme.  I  had  no  strength 
to  spare,  having  at  that  moment  scarcely  enough  to 
keep  my  seat  on  horseback.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  it  pressed  upon  me  as  a  strong  probabilit\' 
that  I  might  never  leave  those  deserts.  "Well," 
thought  I  to  myself,  "a  prairie  makes  quick  and 
sharp  work.  Better  to  die  here,  in  the  saddle  to 
the  last,  than  to  stifle  in  the  hot  air  of  a  sick  cham- 
ber ;  and  a  thousand  times  better  than  to  drag  out 
life,  as  many  have  done,  in  the  helpless  inaction  of 
lingering  disease."  So,  drawing  the  buffalo-robe 
on  which  I  sat  over  my  head,  I  waited  till  the  storm 
should  come.  It  broke  at  last  with  a  sudden  burst 
of  fur}-,  and.  passing  away  as  rapidly  as  it  came, 
left  the  sky  clear  again.  My  reflections  serv-ed  me 
no  other  purpose  than  to  look  back  upon  as  a  piece 
of  curious  experience  ;  for  the  rain  did  not  produce 
the  ill  effects  that  I  had  expected.  We  encamped 
within  an  hour.  Having  no  change  of  clothes,  I 
contrived  to  borrow  a  curious  kind  of  substitute  from 
Reynal  ;  and  this  done,  I  went  home,  that  is,  to 
the  Big  Crow's  lodge,  to  make  the  entire  transfer 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         225 

that  was  necessan-.  Half  a  dozen  squaws  were  in 
the  lodge,  and  one  of  them  taking  my  arm  held  it 
against  her  own.  while  a  general  laugh  and  scream 
of  admiration  was  raised  at  the  contrast  in  the  color 
of  the  skin. 

Our  encampment  that  afternoon  was  not  far  dis- 
tant from  a  spur  of  the  Black  Hills,  whose  ridges, 
bristling  with  fir  trees,  rose  from  the  plains  a  mile  or 
tvvo  on  our  right.  That  they  might  move  more 
rapidly  toward  their  proposed  hunting-grounds,  the 
Indians  determined  to  leave  at  this  place  their  stock 
of  dried  meat  and  other  superfluous  articles.  Some 
left  even  their  lodges,  and  contented  themselves 
with  earning  a  few  hides  to  make  a  shelter  from  the 
sun  and  rain.  Half  the  inhabitants  set  out  in  the 
afternoon,  with  loaded  pack-horses,  toward  the 
mountains.  Here  they  suspended  the  dried  meat 
upon  trees,  where  the  wolves  and  grizzly  bears  could 
not  get  at  it.  All  returned  at  evening.  Some  of 
the  young  men  declared  that  they  had  heard  the  re- 
ports of  guns  among  the  mountains  to  the  eastward, 
and  many  surmises  were  thrown  out  as  to  the  origin 
of  these  sounds.  For  my  part,  I  was  in  hopes  that 
Shaw  and  Henn.-  Chatillon  were  coming  to  join  us. 
I  would  have  welcomed  them  cordially,  for  I  had  no 
other  companions  than  tvvo  brutish  white  men  and 
five  hundred  savages.  I  little  suspected  that  at  that 
very-  moment  my  unlucky  comrade  was  lying  on  a 
buttalo-robe  at  Fort  Laramie,  fevered  with  ivy  poison, 
and  solacing  his  woes  with  tobacco  and  Shakspeare. 

As  we  moved  over  the  plains  on  the  next  morning, 
several  young  men  were  riding  about  the  countr\-  as 
scouts  ;  and  at  length  we  began  to  see  them  occasion- 
ally on  the  tops  of  the  hills,  shaking  their  robes  as  a 
signal  that  they  saw  buffalo.  Soon  after  some  bulls 
came  in  sight.  Horsemen  darted  away  in  pursuit,  and 
we  could  see  from  the  distance  that  one  or  two  of  the 
15 


226  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

buffalo  were  killed.  Raymond  suddenly  became 
inspired.  I  looked  at  him  as  he  rode  by  my  side  ; 
his  face  had  actually  grown  intelligent  1 

"This  is  the  country  for  me  I"  he  said;  "  if  I 
could  only  carr)'  the  buffalo  that  are  killed  here 
ever)^  month  down  to  St.  Louis,  I'd  make  my  for- 
tune in  one  winter.  I'd  grow  as  rich  as  old  Papin 
or  Mackenzie,  either.  I  call  this  the  poor  man's 
market.  When  I'm  hungry,  I  have  only  got  to  take 
my  rifle  and  go  out  and  get  better  meat  than  the 
rich  folks  down  below  can  get,  with  all  their  money. 
You  won't  catch  me  living  in  St.  Louis  another 
Avinter." 

"No,*'  said  Reynal,  "you  had  better  say  that, 
after  you  and  your  Spanish  woman  almost  starved 
to  death  there.  What  a  fool  you  were  ever  to  take 
her  to  the  settlements." 

' '  Your  Spanish  woman  ?' ""  said  I  ;  "  I  never  heard 
of  her  before.     Are  you  married  to  her  ?' ' 

"No,"  answered  Raymond,  again  looking  intel- 
ligent ;  "the  priests  don't  marry  their  women,  and 
why  should  I  marry  mine  f ' 

This  honorable  mention  of  the  Mexican  clerg)' 
introduced  the  subject  of  religion,  and  1  found  that 
my  two  associates,  in  common  with  other  white  men 
in  the  countr}-,  were  as  indifferent  to  their  future  wel- 
fare as  men  whose  lives  are  in  constant  peril  are  apt 
to  be.  Raymond  had  never  heard  of  the  Pope.  A 
certain  bishop,  who  lived  at  Taos  or  at  Santa  Fe, 
embodied  his  loftiest  idea  of  an  ecclesiastical  dig- 
nitary. Reynal  observed  that  a  priest  had  been  at 
Fort  Laramie  two  years  ago,  on  his  way  to  the  Xez 
Perce  Mission,  and  that  he  had  confe-ssed  all  the 
men  there,  and  given  them  absolution.  "I  got  a 
good  clearing  out  myself,  that  time,"  said  Reynal, 
' '  and  1  reckon  that  will  do  for  me  till'  I  go-  down  to 
the  settlements  again." 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         22/ 

Here  he  interrupted  himself  with  an  oath,  and 
exclaimed  :  "  Look  !  look  !  The  '  Panther'  is  run- 
ning an  antelope  !" 

The  Panther,  on  his  black-and-white  horse,  one 
of  the  best  in  the  village,  came  at  full  speed  over 
the  hill  in  hot  pursuit  of  an  antelope,  that  darted 
away  like  lightning  before  him.  The  attempt  was 
made  in  mere  sport  and  bravado,  for  ven-  few  are 
the  horses  that  can  for  a  moment  compete  in  swift- 
ness with  this  little  animal.  The  antelope  ran  down 
the  hill  toward  the  main  body  of  the  Indians,  who 
were  moving  over  the  plain  below.  Sharp  yells 
were  given,  and  horsemen  galloped  out  to  intercept 
his  flight.  At  this  he  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  and 
scoured  away  with  such  incredible  speed  that  he  dis- 
tanced all  his  pursuers,  and  even  the  vaunted  horse 
of  the  Panther  himself.  A  few  moments  after,  we 
witnessed  a  more  serious  sport.  A  shaggy  buffalo- 
bull  bounded  out  from  a  neighboring  hollow,  and 
close  behind  him  came  a  slender  Indian  boy,  riding 
without  stirrups  or  saddle,  and  lashing  his  eager 
little  horse  to  full  speed.  Yard  after  yard  he  drew 
closer  to  his  gigantic  victim,  though  the  bull,  with 
his  short  tail  erect  and  his  tongue  lolling  out  a  foot 
from  his  foaming  jaws,  was  straining  his  unwieldy 
strength  to  the  utmost.  A  moment  more,  and  the 
boy  was  close  alongside  of  him.  It  was  our  friend 
the  Hail-Storm.  He  dropped  the  rein  on  his  horse's 
neck,  and  jerked  an  arrow  like  lightning  from  the 
quiver  at  his  shoulder. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Reynal,  "  that  in  a  year's  time 
that  boy  will  match  the  best  hunter  in  the  village. 
There,  he  has  given  it  to  him  ! — and  there  goes  an- 
other !  You  feel  well,  now,  old  bull,  don't  you, 
with  two  arrows  stuck  in  your  lights  ?  There,  he 
has  given  him  another  !  Hear  how  the  Hail-Storm 
yells  when  he  shoots  !      Yes,  jump  at  him  ;  try  it 


22S  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

again,  old  fellow  I  You  may  jump  all  day  before 
you  get  your  horns  into  that  pony  !" 

The  bull  sprang  again  and  again  at  his  assailant, 
but  the  horse  kept  dodging  with  wonderful  celerirj-. 
At  length  the  bull  followed  up  his  attack  \sith  a  fu- 
rious rush,  and  the  HaU-Storm  was  put  to  flight,  the 
shagg\-  monster  following  close  behind.  TTie  boy 
clung  to  his  seat  like  a  leech,  and  secure  in  the 
speed  of  his  hltle  pony,  looked  around  toward  us 
and  laughed.  In  a  moment  he  was  again  alongside 
of  the  bull,  who  was  now  driven  to  complete  des- 
peration. His  eyeballs  glared  through  his  tangled 
mane,  and  the  blood  flew  from  his  mouth  and  nos- 
trils. Thus,  still  battling  with  each  other,  the  two 
enemies  disappeared  over  the  hill. 

Many  of  the  Indians  rode  at  full  gallop  toward 
the  spot.  We  followed  at  a  more  moderate  pace, 
and  soon  saw  the  bull  lying  dead  on  the  side  of  the 
hUl.  The  Indians  were  gathered  around  him.  and 
several  knives  were  already  at  work.  These  little 
instruments  were  plied  mth  such  wonderful  address 
that  the  twisted  sinews  were  cut  apiart.  the  ponderous 
bones  fell  asunder  as  if  by  magic,  and  in  a  moment 
the  vast  carcass  was  reduced  to  a  heap  of  bloody 
ruins.  The  surrounding  group  of  savages  offered 
no  ver\-  attractive  spectacle  to  a  civilized  eye.  Some 
were  cracking  the  huge  thigh-bones  and  devouring 
the  marrow  within  ;  others  were  cutting  away  pieces 
of  the  liver  and  other  approved  morsels,  and  swal- 
lowing them  on  the  spot  with  the  appetite  of  wolves. 
The  feces  of  most  of  them,  besmeared  with  blood 
from  ear  to  ear,  looked  grim  and  horrible  enough. 
My  friend,  the  ^^'hite  Shield,  proffered  me  a  marrow- 
bone, so  skilfully  laid  open  that  all  the  rich  sub- 
stance within  was  e.xposed  to  view  at  once.  Another 
Indian  held  out  a  large  piece  of  the  dehcate  lining 
of  the  paunch,  but  these  courteous  offerings  1  begged 


THE    OGILLALLAH    VILLAGE.         229 

leave  to  decline.  I  noticed  one  little  boy  who  was 
ver)'  busy  with  his  knife  about  the  jaws  and  throat 
of  the  buffalo,  from  which  he  extracted  some  morsel 
of  peculiar  dehcacy.  It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  only 
certain  parts  of  the  animal  are  considered  eligible 
in  these  extempore  banquets.  The  Indians  would 
look  with  abhorrence  on  any  one  who  should  par- 
take indiscriminately  of  the  newly-killed  carcass. 

We  encamped  that  night,  and  marched  westward 
through  the  greater  part  of  the  following  day.  On 
the  next  morning  we  again  resumed  our  journev. 
It  was  the  seventeenth  of  July,  unless  my  note-book 
misleads  me.  At  noon  we  stopped  by  some  pools 
of  rain-water,  and  in  the  afternoon  again  set  forward. 
This  double  movement  was  contrary  to  the  usual 
practice  of  the  Indians,  but  all  were  very  anxious  to 
reach  the  hunting-ground,  kill  the  necessan,-  num- 
ber of  buffalo,  and  retreat  as  soon  as  possible  from 
the  dangerous  neighborhood.  1  pass  by  for  the 
present  some  curious  incidents  that  occurred  during 
these  marches  and  encampments.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  last-mentioned  day  we  came  upon  the 
banks  of  a  little  sandy  stream,  of  which  the  Indians 
could  not  tell  the  name  ;  for  they  were  verj-  ill  ac- 
quainted with  that  part  of  the  country-.  So  parched 
and  arid  were  the  prairies  around  that  they  could 
not  supply  grass  enough  for  the  horses  to  feed  upon, 
and  we  were  compelled  to  move  farther  and  farther 
up  the  stream  in  search  of  ground  for  encampment. 
The  country  was  much  wilder  than  before.  The 
plains  were  gashed  with  ravines  and  broken  into 
hollows  and  steep  declivities,  which  flanked  our 
course,  as,  in  long  scattered  array,  the  Indians  ad- 
vanced up  the  side  of  the  stream.  Mene-Seela 
consulted  an  extraordinary-  oracle  to  instruct  him 
where  the  buffalo  were  to  be  found.  When  he  with 
the  other  chiefs  sat  down  on  the  grass  to  smoke  and 


230  THE   OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

converse,  as  they  often  did  during  the  march,  the 
old  man  picked  up  one  of  those  enormous  black  and 
green  crickets,  which  the  Dahcotah  call  by  a  name 
that  signifies  ' '  They  who  point  out  the  buffalo. 
The  "  Root-Diggers,"  a  wretched  tribe  beyond  the 
mountains,  turn  them  to  good  account  by  making 
them  into  a  sort  of  soup,  pronounced  by  certain  un- 
scrupulous trappers  to  be  extremely  rich.  Holding 
the  bloated  insect  respectfully  between  his  fingers 
and  thumb,  the  old  Indian  looked  attentively  at  him 
and  inquired,  "  Tell  me,  my  father,  where  must  we 
go  to-morrow  to  find  the  buflfalo  ?' '  The  cricket 
tv\"isted  about  his  long  horns  in  evident  embarrass- 
ment. At  last  he  pointed,  or  seemed  to  point,  them 
westward.  Mene-Seela,  dropping  him  gently  on  the 
grass,  laughed  with  great  glee,  and  said  that  if  we 
went  that  way  in  the  morning  we  should  be  sure  to 
kill  plenty  of  game. 

Toward  evening  we  came  upon  a  fresh  green 
meadow,  traversed  by  the  stream,  and  deep-set 
among  tall  sterile  bluffs.  The  Indians  descended 
its  steep  bank  ;  and  as  I  was  at  the  rear,  I  was  one 
of  the  last  to  reach  this  point.  Lances  were  glitter- 
ing, feathers  fluttering,  and  the  water  below  me  was 
crowded  with  men  and  horses  passing  through, 
while  the  meadow  beyond  was  swarming  with  the 
restless  crowd  of  Indians.  The  sun  was  just  setting, 
and  poured  its  softened  light  upon  them  through  an 
opening  in  the  hills. 

I  remarked  to  Reynal  that  at  last  we  had  found 
a  good  'camping-ground. 

"Oh,  it  is  very  good,"  replied  he,  ironically, 
' '  especially  if  there  is  a  Snake  war-part\'  about,  and 
they  take  it  into  their  heads  to  shoot  down  at  us 
from  the  top  of  these  hills.  It  is  no  plan  of  mine, 
'camping  in  such  a  hole  as  this  I" 

The  Indians  also  seemed  apprehensive.      High  up 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.         23 1 

on  the  top  of  the  tallest  blufif,  conspicuous  in  the 
bright  evening  sunlight,  sat  a  naked  warrior  on 
horseback,  looking  around,  as  it  seemed,  over  the 
neighboring  country  ;  and  Raymond  told  me  that 
many  of  the  young  men  had  gone  out  in  different 
directions  as  scouts. 

The  shadows  had  reached  to  the  very  summit  of 
the  bluffs  before  the  lodges  were  erected  and  the 
village  reduced  again  to  quiet  and  order.  A  cry 
was  suddenly  raised,  and  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren came  running  out  with  animated  faces,  and 
looked  eagerly  through  the  opening  on  the  hills  by 
which  the  stream  entered  from  the  westward.  I 
could  discern  afar  off  some  dark,  heavy  masses, 
passing  over  the  sides  of  a  low  hill.  They  disap- 
peared, and  then  others  followed.  These  were 
bands  of  buffalo-cows.  The  hunting-ground  was 
reached  at  last,  and  everything  promised  well  for 
the  morrow's  sport.  Being  fatigued  and  exhausted, 
I  went  and  lay  down  in  Kongra-Tonga's  lodge, 
when  Raymond  thrust  in  his  head,  and  called  upon 
me  to  come  and  see  some  sport.  A  number  of  In- 
dians were  gathered,  laughing,  along  the  line  of 
lodges  on  the  western  side  of  the  village,  and  at 
some  distance,  I  could  plainly  see  in  the  twihght 
two  huge  black  monsters  stalking,  heavily  and  sol- 
emnly, directly  toward  us.  They  were  buffalo-bulls. 
The  wind  blew  from  them  to  the  village,  and  such 
was  their  blindness  and  stupidity,  that  they  were 
advancing  upon  the  enemy  without  the  least  con- 
sciousness of  his  presence.  Raymond  told  me  that 
two  young  men  had  hidden  themselves  with  guns  in 
a  ravine  about  twenty  yards  in  front  of  us.  The 
two  bulls  walked  slowly  on,  heavily  swinging  from 
side  to  side  in  their  pecuhar  gait  of  stupid  dignity. 
They  approached  within  four  or  five  rods  of  the 
ravine  where  the  Indians  la)  in  ambush.      Here  at 


232  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

last  they  seemed  conscious  that  something  was 
•wrong,  for  they  both  stopped  and  stood  perfectly 
still,  -without  looking  either  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left-  Nothing  of  them  was  to  be  seen  but  two  huge 
black  masses  of  shaggy  mane,  with  horns,  eyes,  and 
nose  in  the  centre,  and  a  pair  of  hoofs  \isible  at  the 
bottom.  At  last  the  more  intelligent  of  them  seemed 
to  have  concluded  that  it  was  time  to  retire.  \"er>' 
slowly,  and  with  an  air  of  the  gra\  est  and  most 
majestic  deliberation,  he  began  to  turn  round,  as  if 
he  were  revohing  on  a  pivoL  Litde  by  httle  his 
ugly  bro-wn  side  was  exjxised  to  N-iew.  A  white 
smoke  sprang  out,  as  it  were,  from  the  ground  ;  a 
sharp  report  came  with  it.  The  old  bull  gave  a 
very  undignified  jump,  and  galloped  off.  At  this 
his  comrade  wheded  about  A^ith  considerable  expe- 
dition. The  other  Indian  shot  at  him  from  the 
ravine,  and  then  both  the  bulls  were  running  away 
at  fiill  speed,  while  half  the  juvenile  population  of 
the  village  raised  a  yell  and  ran  after  them.  The 
first  bull  soon  stopped,  and  while  the  crowd  stood 
looking  at  him  at  a  respectfiil  distance,  he  reeled 
and  roUed  over  on  his  side.  The  other,  wounded  in 
a  less  %-ital  part,  galloped  away  to  the  hills  and 
escaped. 

In  half  an  hour  it  was  totaUj'  dark.  I  lay  down 
to  sleep,  and  ill  as  I  was,  there  vi"as  something  \^r\ 
animarifig  in  the  prospect  of  the  general  hunt  that 
was  to  take  place  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    HUNTING    CAMP. 

"  The  Perse  owt  of  Northamberlande, 
And  a  vowe  to  God  mayde  he, 
That  he  wolde  hunte  in  the  mountayns 

Off  Chyviat  within  dayes  thre, 

In  the  mauger  of  doughte  Dogles, 

.'\nd  all  that  ever  with  him  be." 

Chevy  Chase. 

Long  before  daybreak  the  Indians  broke  up  their 
camp.  The  women  of  Mene-Seela's  lodge  were,  as 
usual,  among  the  first  that  were  ready  for  departure, 
and  I  found  the  old  man  himself  sitting  by  the 
embers  of  the  decayed  fire,  over  which  he  was 
warming  his  withered  fingers,  as  the  morning  was 
ver)'  chilly  and  damp.  The  preparations  for  moving 
were  even  more  confused  and  disorderly  than  usual. 
While  some  families  were  leaving  the  ground  the 
lodges  of  others  were  still  standing  untouched.  At 
this,  old  Mene-Seela  grew  impatient,  and  walking 
out  to  the  middle  of  the  village  stood  with  his  robe 
wrapped  close  around  him,  and  harangued  the 
people  in  a  loud,  sharp  voice.  Now,  he  said,  when 
they  were  on  an  enemy's  hunting-grounds,  was  not 
the  time  to  behave  like  children  ;  they  ought  to 
be  more  active  and  united  than  ever.  His  speech 
had  some  effect.  The  delinquents  took  down  their 
lodges  and  loaded  their  pack-horses  ;  and  when  the 
sun  rose,  the  last  of  the  men,  women,  and  children 
had  left  the  deserted  camp. 

This  movement  was  made  merely  for  the  purpose 
of  finding  a  better  and  safer  position.  So  we  ad- 
vanced only  three  or  four  miles  up  the  little  stream, 
before  each  family  assumed  its  relative  place  in  the 

233 


234  THE    O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

great  ring  of  the  \-illage,  and  all  around  the  squaws 
were  actively  at  work  in  preparing  the  camp.  But 
not  a  single  warrior  dismounted  from  his  horse. 
All  the  men  that  morning  were  mounted  on  inferior 
animals,  leading  their  best  horses  by  a  cord,  or  con- 
fiding them  to  the  care  of  boys.  In  small  parties 
they  began  to  leave  the  ground  and  ride  rapidly 
away  over  the  plains  to  the  westward.  I  had  taken 
no  food  that  morning,  and  not  being  at  all  ambitious 
of  farther  abstinence.  1  went  into  my  host's  lodge, 
which  his  squaws  had  erected  with  wonderful 
celerit)',  and  sat  dowTi  in  the  centre,  as  a  gentle  hint 
that  1  was  hungry- .  A  wooden  bowl  was  soon  set 
before  me,  filled  with  the  nutritious  preparation  of 
dried  meat,  called  pemmican  by  the  northern  voy- 
agers, and  ■wcisna  by  the  Dahcotah.  Taking  a 
handful  to  break  my  fest  upon,  1  left  the  lodge  just 
in  time  to  see  the  last  band  of  hunters  disappear 
over  the  ridge  of  the  neighboring  hill.  I  mounted 
Pauline  and  galloped  in  pursuit,  riding  rather  by  the 
balance  than  by  any  muscular  strength  that  remained 
to  me.  From  the  top  of  the  hili  I  could  overlook  a 
wide  extent  of  desolate  and  unbroken  prairie,  over 
which,  far  and  near,  httle  parties  of  naked  horse- 
men were  rapidly  {sassing.  I  soon  came  up  to  the 
nearest,  and  we  had  not  ridden  a  mile  before  all 
were  united  into  one  large  and  compact  body.  .All 
was  haste  and  eagerness.  Each  hunter  was  whip- 
ping on  his  horse,  as  if  anxious  to  be  the  first  to 
reach  the  game.  In  such  movements  among  the 
Indians  this  is  always  more  or  less  the  case  ;  but  it 
was  especially  so  in  the  present  instance,  because 
the  head  chief  of  the  village  was  absent,  and  there 
were  but  few  ' '  soldiers, ' '  a  sort  of  Indian  poUce, 
who  among  their  other  ftmctions  usually  assimie  the 
direction  of  a  buffalo-hunt.  No  man  turned  to  the 
right  hand  or  to  the  left.     We  rode  at  a  swift  canter 


THE   Hi'XTIXG    CAMP.  21^ 

straight  fonvard,  up  hill  and  down  hill,  and  through 
the  stiff,  obstinate  growth  of  the  endless  wild-sage 
bushes.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  the  same  red 
shoulders,  the  same  long  black  hair  rose  and  fell 
with  the  motion  of  the  horses  before  me.  ^'ery 
little  was  said,  though  once  I  observed  an  old  man 
severely  reproving  Raymond  for  having  left  his  rifle 
behind  him,  when  there  was  some  probabilitj-  of 
encountering  an  enemy  before  the  day  was  over. 
As  we  galloped  across  a  plain  thickly  set  with  sage 
bushes,  the  foremost  riders  vanished  suddenly  from 
sight,  as  if  diving  into  the  earth.  The  arid  soil  was 
cracked  into  a  deep  ravine.  Down  we  all  went  in 
succession  and  galloped  in  a  line  along  the  bottom, 
until  we  found  a  point  where,  one  by  one,  the  horses 
could  scramble  out.  Soon  after,  we  came  upon  a 
wide  shallow  stream,  and  as  we  rode  swiftly  over  the 
hard  sand-beds  and  through  tne  thin  sheets  of  rip- 
pling water,  many  of  the  savage  horsemen  threw 
themselves  to  the  ground,  knelt  on  the  sand, 
snatched  a  hasty  draught,  and  leaping  back  again 
to  their  seats,  galloped  on  again  as  before. 

Meanwhile  scouts  kept  in  advance  of  the  party  ; 
and  now  we  began  to  see  them  on  the  ridge  of  the 
hills,  waving  their  robes  in  token  that  buffalo  were 
visible.  These,  however,  proved  to  be  nothing 
more  than  old  straggling  bulls,  feeding  upon  the 
neighboring  plains,  who  would  stare  for  a  moment 
at  the  hostile  array  and  then  gallop  clumsily  off. 
At  length  we  could  discern  several  of  these  scouts 
making  their  signals  to  us  at  once  ;  no  longer 
waving  their  robes  boldly  from  the  top  of  the  hill, 
but  standing  lower  down,  so  that  they  could  not  be 
seen  from  the  plains  beyond.  Game  worth  pursuing 
had  evidently  been  discovered.  The  excited  Indians 
now  urged  forward  their  tired  horses  even  more 
rapidly  than  before.     Pauline,   who  was  still   sick 


236  THE    O REG  OX   TRAIL. 

and  jaded,  began  to  groan  hea\Tly  ;  and  her  yellow 
sides  were  darkened  with  sweat.  As  we  were 
crowding  together  over  a  lower  intenening  hill,  I 
heard  Reynal  and  Ra>Tnond  shouting  to  me  from 
the  left  ;  and  looking  in  that  direction,  I  saw  them 
riding  away  behind  a  part)"  of  about  twent\"  mean- 
looking  Indians.  These  were  the  relatives  of 
Reynal*  s  squaw,  Margot,  who  not  wishing  to  take 
part  in  the  general  hunt,  were  riding  toward  a  dis- 
tant hollow,  where  they  could  discern  a  small  band 
of  bufialo  which  they  meant  to  appropriate  to  them- 
selves. I  answered  to  the  call  by  ordering  Ray- 
mond to  turn  back  and  follow  me.  He  reluctantly 
obeyed,  though  Reynal,  who  had  relied  on  his 
assistance  in  skinning,  cutting  up,  and  carrying  to 
camp  the  buffalo  that  he  and  his  party  should  kill, 
loudly  protested  and  declared  that  we  should  see 
no  spKjrt  if  we  went  with  the  rest  of  the  Indians. 
Followed  by  Raymond.  1  pursued  the  main  body  of 
hunters,  while  Reynal.  in  a  great  rage,  whipped  his 
horse  over  the  hill  after  his  ragamuffin  relatives. 
The  Indians,  still  about  a  hundred  in  number,  rode 
in  a  dense  body  at  some  distance  in  advance.  They 
galloped  forward,  and  a  cloud  of  dust  was  flving  in 
the  wind  behind  them.  1  could  not  overtake  them 
imtU  they  had  stopped  on  the  side  of  the  hill  where 
the  scouts  were  standing.  Here  each  hunter  sprang 
in  haste  from  the  tired  animal  which  he  had  ridden, 
and  leaped  upon  the  fresh  horse  that  he  had  brought 
with  him.  There  was  not  a  saddle  or  a  bridle  in 
the  whole  party.  A  piece  of  buffalo-robe,  girthed 
over  the  horse's  back,  ser\-ed  in  the  place  of  the 
one,  and  a  cord  of  twisted  hair,  lashed  firmly  round 
his  lower  jaw.  answered  for  the  other.  E^le 
feathers  were  dangUng  from  even,-  mane  and  tail,  as 
insignia  of  courage  and  speed.  As  for  the  rider,  he 
wore  no  other  clothing  than  a  light  cincture  at  his 


THE   HUNTING    CAMP.  237 

waist,  and  a  pair  of  moccasons.  He  had  a  heavy- 
whip,  with  a  handle  of  solid  elk-horn,  and  a  lash 
of  knotted  bull-hide,  fastened  to  his  wrist  by  an 
ornamental  band.  His  bow  was  in  his  hand,  and 
his  quiver  of  otter- or  panther -skin  hung  at  his 
shoulder.  Thus  equipped,  some  thirty  of  the  hun- 
ters galloped  away  toward  the  left,  in  order  to  make 
a  circuit  under  cover  of  the  hills,  that  the  buffalo 
might  be  assailed  on  both  sides  at  once.  The  rest 
impatiently  waited  until  time  enough  had  elapsed 
for  their  companions  to  reach  the  required  position. 
Then  riding  upward  in  a  body,  we  gained  the  ridge 
of  the  hill,  and  for  the  first  time  came  in  sight  of 
the  buffalo  on  the  plain  beyond. 

They  were  a  band  of  cows,  four  or  five  hundred 
in  number,  who  were  crowded  together  near  the 
bank  of  a  wide  stream  that  was  soaking  across  the 
sand-beds  of  the  valley.  This  was  a  large  circular 
basin,  sun  scorched  and  broken,  scantily  covered 
with  herbage  and  encompassed  with  high  barren 
hills,  from  an  opening  in  which  we  could  see  our 
allies  galloping  out  upon  the  plain.  The  wind  blew 
from  that  direction.  The  buffalo  were  aware  of 
their  approach,  and  had  begun  to  move,  though 
very  slowly  and  in  a  compact  mass.  I  have  no 
farther  recollection  of  seeing  the  game  until  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  them,  for  as  we  descended  the  hill 
other  objects  engrossed  my  attention.  Numerous 
old  bulls  were  scattered  over  the  plain,  and  ungal- 
lantly  deserting  their  charge  at  our  approach,  began 
to  wade  and  plunge  through  the  treacherous  quick- 
sands of  the  stream,  and  gallop  away  toward  the 
hills.  One  old  veteran  was  struggling  behind  all 
the  rest  with  one  of  his  forelegs,  which  had  been 
broken  by  some  accident,  dangling  about  uselessly 
at  his  side.  His  appearance,  as  he  went  shambling 
along  on  three  legs,  was  so  ludicrous  that  I  could 


238  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

not  help  pausing  for  a  moment  to  look  at  him.  As 
I  came  near,  he  would  try  to  rush  upon  me,  nearly 
throwing  himself  down  at  every  awkward  attempt. 
Looking  up,  I  saw  the  whole  body  of  Indians  fully 
an  hundred  yards  in  advance.  I  lashed  Pauline  in 
pursuit  and  reached  them  but  just  in  time  ;  for  as  we 
mingled  among  them,  each  hunter,  as  if  by  a  com- 
mon impulse,  violently  struck  his  horse,  each  horse 
sprang  forward  convulsively,  and  scattering  in  the 
charge  in  order  to  assail  the  entire  herd  at  once,  we 
all  rushed  headlong  upon  the  butfalo.  We  were 
among  them  in  an  instant.  Amid  the  trampling 
and  the  yells  I  could  see  their  dark  figures  running 
hither  and  thither  through  clouds  of  dust,  and  the 
horsemen  darting  in  pursuit.  While  we  were  charg- 
ing on  one  side,  our  companions  had  attacked  the 
bewildered  and  panic-stricken  herd  on  the  other. 
The  uproar  and  confusion  lasted  but  for  a  moment. 
The  dust  cleared  away,  and  the  buffalo  could  be 
seen  scattering  as  from  a  common  centre,  flying 
over  the  plain  singly,  or  in  long  files  and  small 
compact  bodies,  while  behind  each  followed  the 
Indians,  lashing  their  horses  to  furious  speed,  forcing 
them  close  upon  their  prey,  and  yelling  as  they 
launched  arrow  after  arrow  into  their  sides.  The 
large  black  carcasses  were  strewn  thickly  over  the 
ground.  Here  and  there  wounded  buffalo  were 
.standing,  their  bleeding  sides  feathered  with  arrows  ; 
and  as  I  rode  past  them  their  eyes  would  glare,  they 
would  bristle  like  gigantic  cats,  and  feebly  attempt 
to  rush  up  and  gore  my  horse. 

I  left  camp  that  morning  with  a  philosophic  reso- 
lution. Neither  1  nor  my  horse  was  at  that  time  fit 
for  such  sport,  and  I  had  determined  to  remain  a 
quiet  spectator  ;  but  amid  the  loish  of  horses  and 
buffalo,  the  uproar  and  the  dust,  I  found  it  impos- 
sible to  sit  still  ;  and  as  four  or  five  buffalo  ran  past 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  239 

me  in  a  line,  I  drove  Pauline  in  pursuit.  We  went 
plunging  close  at  their  heels  through  the  water  and 
the  quicksands,  and,  clambering  the  bank,  chased 
them  through  the  wild-sage  bushes  that  covered  the 
rising  ground  beyond.  But  neither  her  native  spirit 
nor  the  blows  of  the  knotted  bull-hide  could  supply 
the  place  of  poor  Pauline's  exhausted  strength.  We 
could  not  gain  an  inch  upon  the  poor  fugitives.  At 
last,  however,  they  came  full  upon  a  ravine  too  wide 
to  leap  over  ;  and  as  this  compelled  them  to  turn 
abruptly  to  the  left,  I  contrived  to  get  within  ten  or 
twelve  yards  of  the  hindmost.  At  this  she  faced 
about,  bristled  angrily,  and  made  a  show  of  charg- 
ing. I  shot  at  her  with  a  large  holster  pistol,  and 
hit  her  somewhere  in  the  neck.  Down  she  tumbled 
into  the  ravine,  whither  her  companions  had  de- 
scended before  her.  I  saw  their  dark  backs  appear- 
ing and  disappearing  as  they  galloped  along  the 
bottom  ;  then,  one  by  one,  they  came  scrambling 
out  on  the  other  side,  and  ran  off  as  before,  the 
wounded  animal  following  with  unabated  speed. 

Turning  back,  I  saw  Raymond  coming  on  his 
black  mule  to  meet  me  ;  and  as  we  rode  over  the 
field  together,  we  counted  dozens  of  carcasses  lying 
on  the  plain,  in  the  ravines,  and  on  the  sandy  bed 
of  the  stream.  Far  away  in  the  distance,  horses 
and  buffalo  were  still  scouring  along,  with  little 
clouds  of  dust  rising  behind  them  ;  and  over  the 
sides  of  the  hills  we  could  see  long  files  of  the 
frightened  animals  rapidly  ascending.  The  hunters 
began  to  return.  The  boys,  who  had  held  the  horses 
behind  the  hill,  made  their  appearance,  and  the  work 
of  flaying  and  rutting  up  began  in  earnest  all  over 
the  field.  I  noticed  my  host,  Kongra-Tonga,  beyond 
the  stream,  just  alighting  by  the  side  of  a  cow  which 
he  had  killed.  Riding  up  to  him,  1  found  him  in 
the  act  of  drawing  out  an  arrow,  which,  with  the 


240  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

exception  of  the  notch  at  the  end,  had  entirely  dis- 
appeared in  the  animal.  I  asked  him  to  give  it  to 
me,  and  I  still  retain  it  as  a  proof,  though  by  no 
means  the  most  striking  one  that  could  be  offered, 
of  the  force  and  dexterit)-  wnth  which  the  Indians 
discharge  their  arrows. 

The  hides  and  meat  were  piled  upon  the  horses, 
and  the  hunters  began  to  leave  the  ground.  Ray- 
mond and  I,  too,  getting  tired  of  the  scene,  set  out 
for  the  \-illage,  riding  straight  across  the  intervening 
desert.  There  was  no  path,  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  no  landmarks  sufficient  to  guide  us  ;  but  Ray- 
mond seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  perception  of 
the  point  on  the  horizon  toward  which  we  ought  to 
direct  our  course.  Antelope  were  bounding  on  all 
sides,  and  as  is  always  the  case  in  the  presence  of  buf- 
fcdo,  they  seemed  to  have  lost  their  natiu^  shyness 
and  timidit}-.  Bands  of  them  would  run  Ughdy  up 
the  rockA-  decli\ities,  and  stand  gazing  down  upon 
us  from  the  summit.  At  length  we  could  distin- 
guish the  tall  white  rocks  and  the  old  pine  trees  that, 
as  we  well  remembered,  were  just  above  the  site 
of  the  encampment.  Still,  we  could  see  nothing 
of  the  \"illage  itself  until,  ascending  a  grass}-  hUl, 
we  found  the  circle  of  lodges,  dingy  with  storms 
and  smoke,  standing  on  the  plain  at  our  ver}-  feet. 

I  entered  the  lodge  of  my  host.  His  squaw  in- 
stantly brought  me  food  and  water,  and  spread  a 
buffalo-robe  for  me  to  he  upon  :  and,  being  much 
fatigued,  I  lay  down  and  fell  asleep.  In  about  an 
hour  the  entrance  of  Kongra-Tonga.  with  his  arms 
smeared  with  blood  to  the  elbows,  awoke  me.  He 
sat  down  in  his  usual  seat,  on  the  left  side  of  the 
lodge.  His  squaw  gave  him  a  vessel  of  water  for 
washing,  set  before  him  a  bowl  of  boiled  meat,  and 
as  he  was  eating,  pulled  off  his  bloody  mocca- 
sons  and  placed  fresh  ones  on  his  feet  ;  then,  out- 


THE  HiWTIXG    CAMP.  24 1 

stretching  his  limbs,  my  host  composed  himself  to 
sleep. 

And  now  the  hunters,  two  or  three  at  a  time, 
began  to  come  rapidly  in,  and  each,  consigning  his 
horses  to  the  squaws,  entered  his  lodge  with  the  air 
of  a  man  whose  day's  work  was  done.  The  squaws 
flung  down  the  load  from  the  burdened  horses,  and 
vast  piles  of  meat  and  hides  were  soon  accumulated 
before  ever)-  lodge.  By  this  time  it  was  darkening 
fast,  and  the  whole  village  was  illumined  by  the 
glare  of  fires  blazing  all  around.  All  the  squaws 
and  children  were  gathered  about  the  piles  of  meat, 
exploring  them  in  search  of  the  daintiest  portions. 
Some  of  these  they  roasted  on  sticks  before  the  fires, 
but  often  they  dispensed  with  this  superfluous  opera- 
tion. Late  into  the  night  the  fires  were  still  glow- 
ing upon  the  groups  of  feasters  engaged  in  this  sav- 
age banquet  around  them. 

Several  hunters  sat  down  by  the  fire  in  Kongxa- 
Tonga's  lodge  to  talk  over  the  day's  exploits. 
Among  the  rest,  Mene-Seela  came  in.  Though  he 
must  have  seen  full  eighty  winters,  he  had  taken  an 
active  share  in  the  day's  sport.  He  boasted  that  he 
had  killed  two  cows  that  morning,  and  would  have 
killed  a  third  if  the  dust  had  not  blinded  him  so  that 
he  had  to  drop  his  bow  and  arrows  and  press  both 
hands  against  his  eyes  to  stop  the  pain.  The  fire- 
light fell  upon  his  wrinkled  face  and  shrivelled 
figure  as  he  sat  telling  his  stor}-  with  such  inimitable 
gesticulation  that  every  man  in  the  lodge  broke  into 
a  laugh. 

Old  Mene-Seela  was  one  of  the  few  Indians  in 
the  village  with  whom  I  would  have  trusted  myself 
alone  without  suspicion,  and  the  only  one  from 
whom  I  should  have  received  a  gift  or  a  service 
without  the  certainty  that  it  proceeded  from  an  in- 
terested  motive.     He  was   a   great   friend   to   the 

16 


242  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

whites.  He  liked  to  be  in  their  society,  and  was 
very  vain  of  the  favors  he  had  received  from  them. 
He  told  me  one  afternoon,  as  we  were  sitting  to- 
gether in  his  son's  lodge,  that  he  considered  the 
beaver  and  the  whites  the  wisest  people  on  earth  ; 
indeed,  he  was  convinced  they  were  the  same  ;  and 
an  incident  which  had  happened  to  him  long  before 
had  assured  him  of  this.  So  he  began  the  follow- 
ing ston,-,  and  as  the  pipe  passed  in  turn  to  him, 
Reynal  availed  himself  of  these  interruptions  to 
translate  what  had  preceded.  But  the  old  man 
accompanied  his  words  with  such  admirable  panto- 
mime that  translation  was  hardly  necessan,-. 

He  said  that  when  he  was  very  young,  and  had 
never  yet  seen  a  white  man,  he  and  three  or  four  of 
his  companions  were  out  on  a  beaver-hunt,  and  he 
crawled  into  a  large  beaver-lodge  to  examine  what 
was  there.  Sometimes  he  was  creeping  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  sometimes  he  was  obliged  to 
swim,  and  sometimes  to  lie  flat  on  his  face  and  drag 
himself  along.  In  this  way  he  crawled  a  great  dis- 
tance under  ground.  It  was  \tx\  dark,  cold,  and 
close,  so  that  at  last  he  was  almost  suffocated,  and 
fell  into  a  swoon.  When  he  began  to  recover,  he 
could  just  distinguish  the  voices  of  his  companions 
outside,  who  had  given  him  up  for  lost,  and  were 
singing  his  death-song.  At  first  he  could  see  noth- 
ing, but  soon  he  discerned  something  white  before 
him,  and  at  length  plainly  distinguished  three 
people,  entirely  white,  one  man  and  two  women, 
sitting  at  the  edge  of  a  black  pool  of  water.  He 
became  alarmed  and  thought  it  high  time  to  retreat. 
Having  succeeded,  after  great  trouble,  in  reaching 
daylight  again,  he  went  straight  to  the  spot  directly 
above  the  pool  of  water  where  he  had  seen  the 
three  mysterious  beings.  Here  he  beat  a  hole  with 
his  war-club  in  the  ground,  and  sat  down  to  watch. 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  243 

In  a  moment  the  nose  of  an  old  male  beaver  ap- 
peared at  the  opening.  Mene-Seela  instantly  seized 
him  and  dragged  him  up,  when  two  other  beavers, 
both  females,  thrust  out  their  heads,  and  these  he 
served  in  the  same  way.  "These,"  continued  the 
old  man,  "  must  have  been  the  three  white  people 
whom  I  saw  sitting  at  the  edge  of  the  water." 

Mene-Seela  was  the  grand  depositary  of  the 
legends  and  traditions  of  the  village.  I  succeeded, 
however,  in  getting  from  him  only  a  few  fragments. 
Like  all  Indians,  he  was  excessively  superstitious, 
and  continually  saw  some  reason  for  withholding  his 
stories.  "It  is  a  bad  thing,"  he  would  say,  "to 
tell  the  tales  in  summer.  Stay  with  us  till  next 
winter,  and  I  will  tell  you  everything  I  know  ;  but 
now  our  war-parties  are  going  out,  and  our  young 
men  will  be  killed  if  I  sit  down  to  tell  stories  before 
the  frost  begins." 

But  to  leave  this  digression.  We  remained  en- 
camped on  this  spot  five  days,  during  three  of  which 
the  hunters  were  at  work  incessantly,  and  immense 
quantities  of  meat  and  hides  were  brought  in. 
(Ireat  alarm,  however,  prevailed  in  the  village.  All 
were  on  the  alert.  The  young  men  were  ranging 
through  the  country  as  scouts,  and  the  old  men  paid 
careful  attention  to  omens  and  prodigies,  and 
especially  to  their  dreams.  In  order  to  convey  to 
the  enemy  (who,  if  they  were  in  the  neighborhood, 
must  inevitably  have  known  of  our  presence)  the  im- 
pression that  we  were  constantly  on  the  watch,  piles 
of  sticks  and  stones  were  erected  on  all  the  sur- 
rounding hills,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  appear,  at  a 
distance,  like  sentinels.  Often,  even  to  this  hour, 
that  scene  will  rise  before  my  mind  like  a  vi.sible 
reality  :  the  tall  white  rocks  ;  the  old  pine  trees  on 
their  summits  ;  the  sandy  stream  that  ran  along 
their  bases  and  half  encircled  the  village  ;  and  the 


244  ^-^^    OREGON   TRAIL. 

wild-sage  bushes,  with  their  dull  green  hue  and  their 
medicinal  odor,  that  covered  all  the  neighboring 
declivities.  Hour  after  hour  the  squaws  would  pass 
and  repass  with  their  vessels  of  water  between  the 
stream  and  the  lodges.  For  the  most  part,  no  one 
was  to  be  seen  in  the  camp  but  women  and  chil- 
dren, two  or  three  superannuated  old  men,  and  a  few 
lazy  and  worthless  young  ones.  These,  together 
with  the  dogs,  now  grown  fat  and  good-natured 
with  the  abundance  in  the  camp,  were  its  only  ten- 
ants. Still  it  presented  a  busy  and  busthng  scene. 
In  all  quarters  the  meat,  hung  on  cords  of  hide,  was 
drying  in  the  sun,  and  around  the  lodges  the  squaws, 
young  and  old,  were  laboring  on  the  fresh  hides  that 
were  stretched  upon  the  ground,  scraping  the  hair 
from  one  side  and  the  still -adhering  flesh  from  the 
other,  and  rubbing  into  them  the  brains  of  the  buf- 
falo, in  order  to  render  them  soft  and  pliant. 

In  mercy  to  myself  and  my  horse,  I  never  went 
out  with  the  hunters  after  the  first  day.  Of  late, 
however,  I  had  been  gaining  strength  rapidly,  as 
was  always  the  case  upon  every  respite  of  my  dis- 
order. I  was  soon  able  to  walk  with  ease.  Ray- 
mond and  I  would  go  out  upon  the  neighboring 
prairies  to  shoot  antelope,  or  sometimes  to  assail 
straggling  buffalo,  on  foot  ;  an  attempt  in  which  we 
met  with  rather  indifferent  success.  To  kill  a  bull 
with  a  rifle-ball  is  a  difficult  art,  in  the  secret  of 
which  1  was  as  yet  very  imperfectly  initiated.  As  I 
came  out  of  Kongra-Tonga's  lodge  one  morning, 
Reynal  called  to  me  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
village,  and  asked  me  over  to  breakfast.  The 
breakfast  was  a  substantial  one.  It  consisted  of  the 
rich,  juicy  hump-ribs  of  a  fat  cow  ;  a  repast  abso- 
lutely unrivalled.  It  was  roasting  before  the  fire, 
impaled  upon  a  stout  stick,  which  Reynal  took  up 
and  planted  in  the  ground  before  his  lodge  ;  when 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  245 

he,  with  Raymond  and  myself,  taking  our  seats 
around  it,  unsheathed  our  knives  and  assailed  it 
with  good  will.  In  spite  of  all  medical  experience, 
this  solid  fare,  without  bread  or  salt,  seemed  to 
agree  with  me  admirably. 

' '  We  shall  have  strangers  here  before  night, 
said  Reynal. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?"    I  asked. 

"  I  dreamed  so.  I  am  as  good  at  dreaming  as  an 
Indian.  There  is  the  Hail-Storm  ;  he  dreamed  the 
same  thing,  and  he  and  his  crony,  the  Rabbit,  have 
gone  out  on  discovery." 

I  laughed  at  Reynal  for  his  credulity,  went  over 
to  my  host's  lodge,  took  down  my  rifle,  walked  out 
a  mile  or  two  on  the  prairie,  saw  an  old  bull  stand- 
ing alone,  crawled  up  a  ravine,  shot  him,  and  saw 
him  escape.  Then,  quite  exhausted  and  rather  ill- 
humored,  I  walked  back  to  the  village.  By  a  strange 
coincidence,  Reynal' s  prediction  had  been  verified  ; 
for  the  first  persons  whom  I  saw  were  the  two  trap- 
pers. Rouleau  and  Saraphin,  coming  to  meet  me. 
These  men,  as  the  reader  may  possibly  recollect,  had 
left  our  party  about  a  fortnight  before.  They  had 
been  trapping  for  a  while  among  the  Black  Hills,  and 
were  now  on  their  way  to  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
intending  in  a  day  or  two  to  set  out  for  the  neigh- 
boring Medicine  Bow.  They  were  not  the  most 
elegant  or  refined  of  companions,  yet  they  made  a 
very  welcome  addition  to  the  limited  society  of  the 
village.  For  the  rest  of  that  day  we  lay  smoking 
and  talking  in  Reynal' s  lodge.  This,  indeed,  was 
no  better  than  a  little  hut,  made  of  hides  stretched 
on  poles,  and  entirely  open  in  front.  It  was  well 
carpeted  with  soft  buffalo-robes,  and  here  we  re- 
mained, sheltered  from  the  sun,  surrounded  by 
various  domestic  utensils  of  Madame  Margot's 
household.     All  was  quiet  in  the  village.     Though 


246  THE    OREGOy  TRAIL. 

the  hunters  had  not  gone  out  that  day,  they  lay 
sleeping  in  their  lodges,  and  most  of  the  women 
were  silendy  engaged  in  their  heavy  tasks.  A  few 
young  men  were  playing  at  a  lazy  game  of  ball  in 
the  centre  of  the  \  illage  :  and  when  they  became 
tired,  some  girls  supphed  their  place  with  a  more 
boisterous  sport.  At  a  little  distance,  among  the 
lodges,  some  children  and  half-grown  squaws  were 
playfuUy  tossing  up  one  of  their  nxmiber  in  a  buffalo- 
robe,-  an  exact  counterpart  of  the  ancient  pastime 
from  which  Sancho  Panza  suffered  so  much.  Farther 
out  on  the  prairie,  a  host  of  little  naked  boys  were 
roaming  about,  engaged  in  various  rough  games,  or 
pursuing  birds  and  ground-squirrels  w-ith  their  bows 
and  arrows  ;  and  woe  to  the  unhappy  little  animals 
that  fell  into  their  merciless,  torture-lo\-ing  hands  ! 
A  squaw  from  the  next  lodge,  a  notable  active 
housewife,  named  Weah  Washtay,  or  the  Good 
Woman,  brought  us  a  large  bowel  oi  wasna,  and 
went  into  an  ecstasy  of  dehght  when  I  presented 
her  with  a  green  glass  ring,  such  as  I  usually  wore 
with  a  view  to  similar  occasions. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  half  the  sky  was  glow- 
ing fier}'  red,  reflected  on  the  Uttle  stream  as  it 
wouiid  away  among  the  sage  bushes.  Some  young 
men  left  the  village,  and  soon  returned,  driving  in 
before  them  aU  the  horses,  hundreds  in  number, 
and  of  every  size,  age,  and  color.  The  hunters 
came  out,  and  each  securing  those  that  belonged  to 
him,  examined  their  condition,  and  tied  them  fast 
by  long  cords  to  stakes  driven  in  front  of  his  lodge. 
It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  bustle  subsided  and 
tranquillit}'  was  restored  again.  By  this  time  it  was 
nearly  dark.  Kettles  were  hung  over  the  blazing 
fires,  around  which  the  squaws  were  gathered  with 
their  children,  laughing  and  talking  merrily.  A 
circle  of  a  different  kind  was  formed  in  the  centre 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  24/ 

of  the  village.  This  was  composed  of  the  old 
men  and  warriors  of  repute,  who  with  their  white 
buffalo-robes  drawn  close  around  their  shoulders, 
sat  together,  and  as  the  pipe  passed  from  hand  to 
hand,  their  conversation  had  not  a  particle  of  the 
gravity  and  reserve  usually  ascribed  to  Indians.  I 
sat  down  with  them  as  usual.  I  had  in  my  hand 
half  a  dozen  squibs  and  serpents,  which  I  had  made 
one  day  when  encamped  upon  Laramie  Creek,  out 
of  gunpowder  and  charcoal,  and  the  leaves  of  ' '  Fre- 
mont's Expedition,"  rolled  round  a  stout  lead- 
pencil.  I  waited  till  I  contrived  to  get  hold  of  the 
large  piece  of  burning  bois-dc-vachc  which  the  In- 
dians kept  by  them  on  the  ground  for  lighting  their 
pipes.  With  this  I  lighted  all  the  fireworks  at  once, 
and  tossed  them  whizzing  and  sputtering  into  the  air, 
over  the  heads  of  the  company.  They  all  jumped 
up  and  ran  off  with  yelps  of  astonishment  and  con- 
sternation. After  a  moment  or  two,  they  ventured 
to  come  back  one  by  one,  and  some  of  the  boldest, 
picking  up  the  cases  of  burnt  paper  that  were  scat- 
tered about,  examined  them  with  eager  curiosity  to 
discover  their  mysterious  secret.  From  that  time 
forward  I  enjoyed  great  repute  as  a  "  fire-medicine." 
The  camp  was  filled  with  the  low  hum  of  cheer- 
ful voices.  There  were  other  sounds,  however,  of  a 
very  different  kind,  for  from  a  large  lodge,  lighted 
up  like  a  gigantic  lantern  by  the  blazing  fire  within, 
came  a  chorus  of  dismal  cries  and  wailings,  long 
drawn  out,  like  the  howling  of  wolves,  and  a  woman, 
almost  naked,  was  crouching  close  outside,  crying 
violently,  and  gashing  her  legs  with  a  knife  till  they 
were  covered  with  blood.  Just  a  year  before,  a 
young  man  belonging  to  this  family  had  gone  out 
with  a  war-party  and  had  been  slain  by  the  enemy, 
and  his  relatives  were  thus  lamenting  his  loss.  Still 
other  sounds  might  be  heard  ;   loud  earnest  cries 


248  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

often  repeated  from  amid  the  gloom,  at  a  distance 
beyond  the  village.  They  proceeded  from  some 
young  men  who,  being  about  to  set  out  in  a  few  days 
on  a  warlike  expedition,  were  standing  at  the  top  of 
a  hill,  calling  on  the  Great  Spirit  to  aid  them  in 
their  enterprise.  \\'hile  I  was  listening.  Rouleau, 
wnth  a  laugh  on  his  careless  face,  called  to  me  and 
directed  my  attention  to  another  quarter.  In  front 
of  the  lodge  where  Weah  Washtay  lived  another 
squaw  was  standing,  angrily  scolding  an  old  yellow 
dog,  who  lay  on  the  ground  with  his  nose  resting 
betvveen  his  paws,  and  his  eyes  turned  sleepily  up 
to  her  face,  as  if  he  were  pretending  to  give  re- 
spectful attention,  but  resolved  to  fall  asleep  as  soon 
as  it  was  all  over. 

' '  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !"  said  the 
old  woman.  ' '  I  ha\e  fed  you  well,  and  taken  care 
of  you  ever  since  you  were  small  and  blind,  and 
could  only  crawl  about  and  squeal  a  little,  instead 
of  howling  as  you  do  now.  When  you  grew  old,  I 
said  you  were  a  good  dog.  You  were  strong  and 
gentle  when  the  load  was  put  on  your  back,  and  you 
never  ran  among  the  feet  of  the  horses  when  we 
were  all  travelling  together  over  the  prairie.  But 
you  had  a  bad  heart  I  \\'henever  a  rabbit  jumped 
out  of  the  bushes,  you  were  always  the  first  to  run 
after  him  and  lead  away  all  the  other  dogs  behind 
you.  You  ought  to  have  known  that  it  was  ver>' 
dangerous  to  act  so.  When  you  had  got  far  out  on 
the  prairie,  and  no  one  was  near  to  help  you,  per- 
haps a  wolf  would  jump  out  of  the  ravine  ;  and  then 
what  could  you  do  ?  You  would  certainly  have  been 
killed,  for  no  dog  can  fight  well  with  a  load  on  his 
back.  Only  three  days  ago  you  ran  off  in  that  way, 
and  turned  over  the  bag  of  wooden  pins  with  which 
I  used  to  fasten  up  the  front  of  the  lodge.  Look  up 
there,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is  all  flapping  open. 


THE  HUNTIXG    CAMP.  249 

And  now  to-night  you  have  stolen  a  great  piece  of 
fat  meat  which  was  roasting  before  the  fire  for  my 
children.  I  tell  you,  you  have  a  bad  heart,  and 
you  must  die  ?' ' 

So  saying,  the  squaw  went  into  the  lodge,  and 
coming  out  with  a  large  stone  mallet,  killed  the  un- 
fortunate dog  at  one  blow.  This  speech  is  worthy 
of  notice,  as  illustrating  a  curious  characteristic  of 
the  Indians  ;  the  ascribing  intelligence  and  a  power 
of  understanding  speech  to  the  inferior  animals  ;  to 
whom,  indeed,  according  to  many  of  their  tradi- 
tions, they  are  Hnked  in  close  affinity  ;  and  they 
even  claim  the  honor  of  a  lineal  descent  from  bears, 
wolves,  deer,  or  tortoises. 

As  it  grew  late,  and  the  crowded  population  began 
to  disappear,  I  too  walked  across  the  village  to  the 
lodge  of  my  host,  Kongra-Tonga.  As  I  entered  I 
saw  him,  by  the  flickering  blaze  of  the  fire  in  the 
centre,  reclining  half  asleep  in  his  usual  place.  His 
couch  was  by  no  means  an  uncomfortable  one.  It 
consisted  of  soft  buft'alo-robes,  laid  together  on  the 
ground,  and  a  pillow  made  of  whitened  deer-skin, 
stuffed  with  feathers  and  ornamented  with  beads. 
At  his  back  was  a  light  framework  of  poles  and 
slender  reeds,  against  which  he  could  lean  with  ease 
when  in  a  sitting  posture  ;  and  at  the  top  of  it,  just 
above  his  head,  his  bow  and  quiver  were  hanging. 
His  squaw,  a  laughing,  broad-faced  woman,  ap- 
parently had  not  yet  completed  her  domestic 
arrangements,  for  she  was  bustling  about  the  lodge, 
pulling  over  the  utensils  and  the  bales  of  dried 
meats  that  were  ranged  carefully  around  it.  Un- 
happily, she  and  her  partner  were  not  the  only 
tenants  of  the  dwelling  ;  for  half  a  dozen  children 
were  scattered  about,  sleeping  in  every  imaginable 
posture.  My  saddle  was  in  its  place  at  the  head  of 
the  lodge,   and  a  buffalo-robe  was  spread  on  the 


250  THE    OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

ground  before  it.  Wrapping  myself  in  my  blanket, 
I  lay  down  ;  but  had  I  not  been  extremely  fatigued, 
the  noise  in  the  next  lodge  would  have  pre^•ented 
my  sleeping.  There  was  the  monotonous  thumping 
of  the  Indian  drum,  mixed  with  occasional  sharp 
yells,  and  a  chorus  chanted  by  tvvent)-  voices.  A 
grand  scene  of  gambling  was  going  fonvard  with 
all  the  appropriate  formahties.  The  players  were 
staking  on  the  chance  issue  of  the  game  their  orna- 
ments, their  horses,  and  as  the  excitement  rose, 
their  garments,  and  even  their  weapons  ;  for  desper- 
ate gambling  is  not  contined  to  the  hells  of  Paris. 
The  men  of  the  plains  and  the  forests  no  less  resort 
to  it  as  a  violent  but  grateful  relief  to  the  tedious 
monotony  of  their  lives,  which  alternate  between 
fierce  excitement  and  listless  inaction.  1  fell  asleep 
with  the  dull  notes  of  the  drum  still  sounding  on  my 
ear  ;  but  these  furious  orgies  lasted  without  inter- 
mission tiU  daylight.  I  was  soon  awakened  by  one 
of  the  children  crawling  over  me,  while  another 
larger  one  was  tugging  at  my  blanket  and  nestling 
himself  in  a  ver)'  disagreeable  proximity.  I  im- 
mediately repelled  these  advances  by  punching  the 
heads  of  these  miniature  savages  with  a  short  stick 
which  I  always  kept  by  me  for  the  purpose  ;  and  as 
sleeping  half  the  day  and  eating  much  more  than 
is  good  for  them  makes  them  extremely  restless, 
this  operation  usually  had  to  be  repeated  four  or  five 
times  in  the  course  of  the  night.  My  host  himself 
was  the  author  of  another  most  formidable  annoy- 
ance. All  these  Indians,  and  he  among  the  rest, 
think  themselves  bound  to  the  constant  performance 
of  certain  acts  as  the  condition  on  which  their  suc- 
cess in  life  depends,  whether  in  war,  love,  hunting, 
or  any  other  employment.  These  "medicines," 
as  they  are  called  in  that  countn,-,  which  are  usually 
communicated  in  dreams,  are  often  absurd  enough. 


THE   HCXTIXG    CAMP.  2$  I 

Some  Indians  will  strike  the  butt  of  the  pipe  against 
the  ground  even.-  time  they  smoke  ;  others  will 
insist  that  everything  they  say  shall  be  interpreted 
by  contraries  ;  and  Shaw  once  met  an  old  man  who 
conceived  that  all  would  be  lost  unless  he  compelled 
ever>-  white  man  he  met  to  drink  a  bowl  of  cold 
water.  My  host  was  particularly  fortunate  in  his 
allotment.  The  Great  Spirit  had  told  him  in  a 
dream  that  he  must  sing  a  certain  song  in  the 
middle  of  every  night ;  and  regularly  at  about 
twelve  o'  clock  his  dismal  monotonous  chanting  would 
awaken  me,  and  I  would  see  him  seated  bolt  up- 
right on  his  couch,  going  through  his  dolorous  per- 
formance with  a  most  business-hke  air.  There 
were  other  voices  of  the  night,  still  more  inhar- 
monious. Twice  or  thrice,  between  sunset  and 
dawn,  all  the  dogs  in  the  village,  and  there  were 
hundreds  of  them,  would  bay  and  yelp  in  chorus  ; 
a  most  horrible  clamor,  resembling  no  sound  that  I 
have  ever  heard,  except  perhaps  the  frightful  howl- 
ing of  wolves  that  we  used  sometimes  to  hear,  long 
afterward,  when  descending  the  Arkansas  on  the 
trail  of  General  Kearney"  s  army.  The  canine 
uproar  is,  if  possible,  more  discordant  than  that  of 
the  wolves.  Heard  at  a  distance,  slowly  rising  on 
the  night,  it  has  a  strange  unearthly  effect,  and 
would  fearfully  haunt  the  dreams  of  a  nervous 
man  ;  but  when  you  are  sleeping  in  the  midst  of  it, 
the  din  is  outrageous.  One  long  loud  howl  from  the 
next  lodge  perhaps  begins  it,  and  voice  after  voice 
takes  up  the  sound,  till  it  passes  around  the  whole 
circumference  of  the  village,  and  the  air  is  filled 
with  confused  and  discordant  cries,  at  once  fierce 
and  mournful.  It  lasts  but  for  a  moment,  and  then 
dies  away  into  silence. 

Morning  came,  and  Kongra-Tonga,  mounting  his 
horse,   rode  out  with  the  hunters.      It  may  not  be 


252  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

amiss  to  glance  at  him  for  an  instant  in  his  domestic 
character  of  husband  and  father.  Both  he  and  his 
squaw,  hke  most  other  Indians,  were  ver)'  fond  of 
their  children,  whom  they  indulged  to  excess,  and 
never  punished,  except  in  extreme  cases,  when  they 
would  throw  a  bowl  of  cold  water  over  them.  Their 
offspring  became  sufficiently  undutiful  and  dis- 
obedient under  this  system  of  education,  which 
tends  not  a  little  to  foster  that  wild  idea  of  liberty 
and  utter  intolerance  of  restraint  which  lie  at  the 
ver)-  foundation  of  the  Indian  character.  It  would 
be  hard  to  find  a  fonder  father  than  Kongra-Tonga. 
There  was  one  urchin  in  particular,  rather  less  than 
two  feet  high,  to  whom  he  was  exceedingly  attached  ; 
and  sometimes  spreading  a  buffalo-robe  in  the  lodge, 
he  would  seat  himself  upon  it,  place  his  small  favor- 
ite upright  before  him,  and  chant  in  a  low  tone  some 
of  the  words  used  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  war- 
dance.  The  little  fellow,  who  could  just  manage  to 
balance  himself  by  stretching  out  both  arms,  would 
lift  his  feet  and  turn  slowly  round  and  round  in  time 
to  his  father's  music,  while  my  host  would  laugh 
with  delight,  and  look  smiling  up  into  my  face  to 
see  if  I  were  admiring  this  precocious  performance 
of  his  offspring.  In  his  capacity  of  husband  he 
was  somewhat  less  exemplar}-.  The  squaw  who 
lived  in  the  lodge  with  him  had  been  his  partner  for 
many  years.  She  took  good  care  of  his  children 
and  his  household  concerns.  He  liked  her  well 
enough,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  they  never 
quarrelled  ;  but  all  his  warmer  affections  were  re- 
served for  younger  and  more  recent  favorites.  Of 
these  he  had  at  present  only  one,  who  lived  in  a 
lodge  apart  from  his  own.  One  day  while  in  his 
camp,  he  became  displeased  with  her,  pushed  her 
out,  threw  after  her  her  ornaments,  dresses,  and 
ever)-thing  she  had,  and  told  her  to  go  home  to  her 


THE   HUNTING    CAMP.  253 

father.  Having  consummated  this  summary  divorce, 
for  which  he  could  show  good  reasons,  he  came 
back,  seated  himself  in  his  usual  place,  and  began 
to  smoke  with  an  air  of  the  utmost  tranquillity  and 
self-satisfaction. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  lodge  with  him  on  that  very 
afternoon,  when  I  felt  some  curiosity  to  learn  the 
history  of  the  numerous  scars  that  appeared  on  his 
naked  body.  Of  some  of  them,  however,  I  did  not 
venture  to  inquire,  for  I  already  understood  their 
origin.  Each  of  his  arms  was  marked  as  if  deeply 
gashed  with  a  knife  at  regular  intervals,  and  there 
were  other  scars  also,  of  a  ditferent  character,  on 
his  back  and  on  either  breast.  They  were  the  traces 
of  those  formidable  tortures  which  these  Indians,  in 
common  with  a  few  other  tribes,  inflict  upon  them- 
selves at  certain  seasons  ;  in  part,  it  may  be,  to  gain 
the  glorj'  of  courage  and  endurance,  but  chiefly  as 
an  act  of  self-sacrifice  to  secure  the  favor  of  the 
Great  Spirit.  The  scars  upon  the  breast  and  back 
were  produced  by  running  through  the  flesh  strong 
splints  of  wood,  to  which  ponderous  buffalo  skulls 
are  fastened  by  cords  of  hide,  and  the  wretch  runs 
forward  with  all  his  strength,  assisted  by  two  com- 
panions, who  take  hold  of  each  arm,  until  the  flesh 
tears  apart  and  the  heavy  loads  are  left  behind. 
Others  of  Kongra-Tonga' s  scars  were  the  result  of 
accidents  ;  but  he  had  many  which  he  received  in 
war.  He  was  one  of  the  most  noted  warriors  in  the 
village.  In  the  course  of  his  life  he  had  slain,  as  he 
boasted  to  me,  fourteen  men  ;  and  though,  like  other 
Indians,  he  was  a  great  braggart  and  utterly  regard- 
less of  truth,  yet  in  this  statement  common  report 
bore  him  out.  Being  much  flattered  by  my  inquiries, 
he  told  me  tale  after  tale,  true  or  false,  of  his  war- 
like exploits  ;  and  there  was  one  among  the  rest  illus- 
trating the  worst  features  of  the  Indian  character  too 


254  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

well  for  me  to  omit  it.  Pointing  out  of  the  opening 
of  the  lodge  toward  the  Medicine-Bow  Mountains, 
not  many  miles  distant,  he  said  that  he  was  there  a 
few  summers  ago  with  a  war-party  of  his  young  men. 
Here  they  found  two  Snake  Indians  hunting.  They 
shot  one  of  them  with  arrows,  and  chased  the  other 
up  the  side  of  the  mountain  till  they  surrounded  him 
on  a  level  place,  and  Kongra-Tonga  himself  jumping 
forward  among  the  trees,  seized  him  by  the  arm. 
Two  of  his  young  men  then  ran  up  and  held  him 
fast  while  he  scalped  him  alive.  They  then  built  a 
great  fire,  and  cutting  the  tendons  of  their  captive's 
wrists  and  feet,  threw  him  in,  and  held  him  down 
with  long  poles  until  he  was  burnt  to  death.  He 
garnished  his  story  with  a  great  many  descriptive 
particulars  much  too  revolting  to  mention.  His 
features  were  remarkably  mild  and  open,  without 
the  fierceness  of  expression  common  among  these 
Indians  ;  and  as  he  detailed  these  devilish  cruelties, 
he  looked  up  into  my  face  wVCa  the  same  air  of 
earnest  simplicity  which  a  little  child  would  wear 
in  relating  to  its  mother  some  anecdote  of  its  youth- 
ful experience. 

Old  Mene-Seela's  lodge  could  offer  another  illus- 
tration of  the  ferocin-  of  Indian  warfare.  A  bright- 
eved  active  little  boy  was  living  there.-  He  had  be- 
longed to  a  village  of  the  Gros-Ventre  Blackfeet,  a 
small  but  bloody  and  treacherous  band,  in  close 
alliance  with  the  Arapahoes.  About  a  year  before, 
Kongra-Tonga  and  a  party  of  warriors  had  found 
about  twenty  lodges  of  these  Indians  upon  the  plains 
a  little  to  the  eastward  of  our  present  camp  ;  and 
surrounding  them  in  the  night,  they  butchered  men, 
women,  and  children  without  mercy,  preserving 
only  this  little  boy  alive.  He  was  adopted  into  the 
old  man's  family,  and  was  now  fast  becoming  iden- 
tified with  the  Ogillallah  children,  among  whom  he 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  255 

mingled  on  equal  terms.  There  was  also  a  Crow 
warrior  in  the  village,  a  man  cf  gigantic  stature  and 
most  symmetrical  proportions.  Having  been  taken 
prisoner  many  years  before  and  adopted  by  a  squaw 
in  place  of  a  son  whom  she  had  lost,  he  had  forgot- 
ten his  old  national  antipathies,  and  was  now  both 
in  act  and  inclination  an  Ogillallah. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  scheme  of  the 
grand  warlike  combination  against  the  Sjiake  and. 
Crow  Indians  originated  in  this  village  ;  and  though 
this  plan  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  the  embers  of 
the  martial  ardor  continued  to  glow  brightly.  Eleven 
young  men  had  prepared  themselves  to  go  out 
against  the  enemy.  The  fourth  day  of  our  stay  in 
this  camp  was  fixed  upon  for  their  departure.  At  the 
head  of  this  party  was  a  well-built,  activ6  little  In- 
dian, called  the  White  Shield,  whom  I  had  always 
noticed  for  the  great  neatness  of  his  dress  and  ap- 
pearance. His  lodge  too,  though  not  a  large  one,  was 
the  best  in  the  village  ;  his  squaw  was  one  of  the 
prettiest  girls,  and  altogether  his  dweUing  presented 
a  complete  model  of  an  Ogillallah  domestic  estab- 
lishment. I  was  often  a  visitor  there,  for  the  White 
Shield  being  rather  partial  to  white  men,  used  to 
invite  me  to  continual  feasts  at  all  hours  of  the  day. 
Once  when  the  substantial  part  of  the  entertainment 
was  concluded,  and  he  and  1  were  seated  cross- 
legged  on  a  buffalo-robe,  smoking  together  very 
amicably,  he  took  down  his  warlike  equipments, 
which  were  hanging  around  the  lodge,  and  displayed 
them  with  great  pride  and  self-importance.  Among 
the  rest  was  a  most  superb  head-dress  of  feathers. 
Taking  this  from  its  case,  he  put  it  on  and  stood 
before  me,  as  if  conscious  of  the  gallant  air  which 
it  gave  to  his  dark  face  and  his  vigorous  graceful 
figure.  He  told  me  that  upon  it  were  the  feathers 
of  three  war-eagles,   equal  in  value  to  the  same 


256  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

number  of  good  horses.  He  took  up  also  a  shield 
gayly  painted  and  hung  -vWth  feathers.  The  effect 
of  these  barbaric  ornaments  was  admirable,  for  they 
were  arranged  with  no  little  skill  and  taste.  His 
quiver  was  made  of  the  spotted  skin  of  a  small 
panther,  such  as  are  common  among  the  Black 
Hills,  from  which  the  tail  and  distended  claws  were 
still  allowed  to  hang.  The  White  Shield  concluded 
his  entertainment  in  a  manner  characteristic  of  an 
Indian.  He  begged  of  me  a  little  powder  and  ball, 
for  he  had  a  gun  as  well  as  bow  and  arrows  ;  but 
this  I  was  obliged  to  refuse,  because  I  had  scarcely 
enough  for  my  own  use.  Making  him,  however,  a 
parting  present  of  a  paper  of  vermihon,  I  left  him 
apparently  quite  contented. 

Unhappily,  on  the  next  morning  the  \Miite  Shield 
took  cold,  and  was  attacked  with  a  violent  inflam- 
mation of  the  throat.  Immediately  he  seemed  to 
lose  all  spirit,  and  though  before  no  warrior  in  the 
village  had  borne  himself  more  proudly,  he  now 
moped  about  from  lodge  to  lodge  with  a  forlorn  and 
dejected  air.  At  length  he  came  and  sat  down, 
closely  wrapped  in  his  robe,  before  the  lodge  of  Rey- 
nal,  but  when  he  found  that  neither  he  nor  1  knew 
how  to  relieve  him,  he  arose  and  stalked  over  to 
one  of  the  medicine-men  of  the  village.  This  old 
impostor  thumped  him  for  some  time  with  both  fists, 
howled  and  yelped  over  him,  and  beat  a  drum  close 
to  his  ear  to  expel  the  evil  spirit  that  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him.  This  vigorous  treatment  failing  of 
the  desired  effect,  the  White  Shield  withdrew  to  his 
own  lodge,  where  he  lay  disconsolate  for  some 
hours.  Making  his  appearance  once  more  in  the 
afternoon,  he  again  took  his  seat  on  the  ground  be- 
fore Revnal's  lodge,  holding  his  throat  with  his  hand. 
For  some  time  he  sat  perfectly  silent  with  his  eyes 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  257 

fixed  mournfully  on. the  ground.  At  last  he  began 
to  speak  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  I  am  a  brave  man,"  he  said  ;  "all  the  young 
men  think  me  a  great  warrior,  and  ten  of  them  are 
ready  to  go  with  me  to  the  war.  I  will  go  and  show 
them  the  enemy.  Last  summer  the  Snakes  killed 
my  brother.  I  cannot  live  unless  I  revenge  his 
death.  To-morrow  we  will  set  out  and  I  will  take 
their  scalps." 

The  White  Shield,  as  he  expressed  this  resolu- 
tion, seemed  to  have  lost  all  the  accustomed  fire 
and  spirit  of  his  look,  and  hung  his  head  as  if  in  a 
fit  of  despondency. 

As  I  was  sitting  that  evening  at  one  of  the  fires,  I 
saw  him  arrayed  in  his  splendid  war-dress,  his 
cheeks  painted  with  vermilion,  leading  his  favorite 
war-horse  -to  the  front  of  his  lodge.  He  mounted 
and  rode  around  the  village,  singing  his  war-song 
in  a  loud  hoarse  voice  amid  the  shrill  acclamations 
of  the  women.  Then  dismounting,  he  remained 
for  some  minutes  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  as  if  in 
an  act  of  supplication.  On  the  following  morning  I 
looked  in  vain  for  the  departure  of  the  warriors. 
All  was  quiet  in  the  village  until  late  in  the  fore- 
noon, when  the  White  Shield  issuing  from  his  lodge, 
came  and  seated  himself  in  his  old  place  before  us. 
Reynal  asked  him  why  he  had  not  gone  out  to  find 
the  enemy  ! 

"  I  cannot  go,"  answered  the  White  Shield  in  a 
dejected  voice.  "I  have  given  my  war-arrows  to  the 
Meneaska." 

' '  You  have  only  given  him  two  of  your  arrows, ' ' 
said  Reynal.  "  If  you  ask  him,  he  will  give  them 
back  again." 

For  some  time  the  White  Shield  said  nothing. 
At  last  he  spoke  in  a  gloomy  tone  : 

"One  of  my  young  men  has  had  bad  dreams. 
17 


258.  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

TTie  spirits  of  the  dead  came  and  threw  stones  at 
him  in  his  sleep." 

If  such  a  dream  had  actually  taken  place  it  might 
have  broken  up  this  or  any  other  war-party,  but 
both  Reynal  and  I  were  convinced  at  the  time  that  it 
was  a  mere  fabrication  to  excuse  his  remaining  at 
home. 

The  WTiite  Shield  was  a  warrior  of  noted  prowess. 
A'ery-  probably  he  would  have  received  a  mortal 
wound  without  the  show  of  pain,  and  endured  without 
flinching  the  worst  tortures  that  an  enemy  could  in- 
flict upon  him.  TTie  whole  power  of  an  Indian's 
nature  would  be  summoned  to  encounter  such  a 
trial  ;  ever\'  influence  of  his  education  from  child- 
hood would  have  prepared  him  for  it  ;  the  cause  of 
his  suffering  would  have  been  visibly  and  palpably 
before  him,  and  his  spirit  would  rise  to  set  his 
enemy  at  defiance,  and  gain  the  highest  glor}-  of  a 
warrior  b}'  meeting  death  with  fortitude.  But  when 
he  feels  himself  attacked  by  a  mysterious  evil,  be- 
fore whose  insidious  assaults  his  manhood  is  wasted, 
and  his  strength  drained  away,  when  he  can  see  no 
enemy  to  resist  and  def\-,  the  boldest  warrior  falls 
prostrate  at  once.  He  believes  that  a  bad  spirit  has 
taken  possession  of  him,  or  that  he  is  the  victim  of 
some  charm.  WTien  suffering  from  a  protracted 
disorder  an  Indian  ^^-ill  often  abandon  himself  to  his 
supposed  destiny,  pine  away  and  die,  the  victim  of 
his  own  imagination.  The  same  effect  will  often 
follow  from  a  series  of  calamities,  or  a  long  run  of 
ill  success,  and  the  sufferer  has  been  known  to  ride 
into  the  midst  of  an  enemy's  camp,  or  attack  a 
grizzly  bear  single-handed,  to  get  rid  of  a  life  which 
he  supposed  to  lie  under  the  doom  of  misfortune. 

Thus  after  all  his  fasting,  dreaming,  and  calling 
upon  the  Great  Spirit,  the  WTiite  Shield's  war-party 
was  pitifully  broken  up. 


CHAPTER  x^^. 

THE    TRAPPERS. 

"  Ours  the  wild  life,  in  tumult  still  to  range. 
From  toil  to  rest,  and  joy  in  every  change; 
The  exulting  sense,  the  pulses  maddening  play, 
That  thrills  the  wanderer  of  the  trackless  way  ; 
That  for  itself  can  woo  the  approaching  fight. 
And  turn  what  some  deem  danger  to  delight : 
Come  when  it  will  we  snatch  the  life  of  life ; 
When  lost,  what  recks  it  by  disease  or  strife?" 

The  Corsair. 

In  speaking  of  the  Indians,  I  have  almost  forgot- 
ten two  bold  adventurers  of  another  race,  the  trap- 
pers Rouleau  and  Saraphin.  These  men  were  bent 
on  a  most  hazardous  enterprise.  A  day's  joumey 
to  the  westward  was  the  country-  over  which  the 
Arapahoes  are  accustomed  to  range,  and  for  which 
the  tvvo  trappers  were  on  the  point  of  setting  out. 
These  Arapahoes,  of  whom  Shaw  and  I  afterward 
fell  in  with  a  large  village,  are  ferocious  barbarians, 
of  a  most  brutal  and  wolfish  aspect  ;  and  of  late 
they  had  declared  themselves  enemies  to  the  whites, 
and  threatened  death  to  the  first  who  should  venture 
within  their  territorj-.  The  occasion  of  the  declara- 
tion was  as  follows  : 

In  the  previous  spring,  1S45,  Col.  Kearney  left 
Fort  Leavenworth  with  several  companies  of  dra- 
goons, and  marching  with  extraordinary-  celerit\-, 
reached  Fort  Laramie,  whence  he  passed  along  the 
foot  of  the  mountains  to  Bents  Fort,  and  then, 
turning  eastward  again,  returned  to  the  point  from 
whence  he  set  out.  While  at  Fort  Laramie  he  sent 
a  part  of  his  command  as  far  westward  as  Sweet- 
water, while  he  himself  remained  at  the  fort,  and 

269 


26o  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

dispatched  messages  to  the  surrounding  Indians  to 
meet  him  there  in  council.  Then  for  the  first  time 
the  tribes  of  that  vicinit\"  saw  the  white  warriors, 
and,  as  might  have  been  expected,  they  were  lost  in 
astonishment  at  their  regular  order,  their  gay  attire, 
the  completeness  of  their  martial  equipment,  and 
the  great  size  and  power  of  their  horses.  Among 
the  rest,  the  Arapahoes  came  in  considerable  num- 
bers to  the  fort.  They  had  lately  committed  numer- 
ous acts  of  outrage,  and  Col.  Kearney  threatened 
that  if  they  killed  any  more  white  men  he  would 
turn  loose  his  dragoons  upon  them,  and  annihilate 
their  whole  nation.  In  the  evening,  to  add  effect  to 
his  speech,  he  ordered  a  hov^itzer  to  be  fired  and  a 
rocket  to  be  thrown  up.  Many  of  the  Arapahoes 
fell  prostrate  on  the  ground,  while  others  ran  away 
screaming  with  amazement  and  terror.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day  they  withdrew  to  their  mour'ains,  con- 
founded with  awe  at  the  appearance  cf  the  dra- 
goons, at  their  big  gun  which  went  off  twice  at  one 
shot,  and  the  fier^-  messenger  which  they  had  sent 
up  to  the  Great  Spirit.  For  many  months  they  re- 
mained quiet,  and  did  no  farther  mischief.  At 
length,  just  before  we  came  into  the  country-,  one 
of  them,  by  an  act  of  the  basest  treachers'.  kiUed 
two  white  men.  Boot  and  May,  who  were  trapping 
among  the  mountains.  For  this  act  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  discover  a  motive.  It  seemed  to  spring  from 
one  of  those  inexphcable  impulses  which  often 
actuate  Indians,  and  appear  no  better  than  the 
mere  outbreaks  of  native  ferocit)'.  No  sooner  was 
the  murder  committed  than  the  whole  tribe  were  in 
extreme  consternation.  They  expected  every  day 
that  the  avenging  dragoons  would  arrive,  little  think- 
ing that  a  desert  of  nine  hundred  miles  in  extent  lay 
between  the  latter  and  their  mountain  fastnesses. 
A  large  deputation  of  them  came  to  Fort  Laramie, 


THE    TRAPPERS.  26 1 

bringing  a  valuable  present  of  horses,  in  compensa- 
tion for  the  lives  of  the  murdered  men.  These 
Bordeaux  refused  to  accept.  They  then  asked  him 
if  he  would  be  satisfied  with  their  delivering  up  the 
murderer  himself ;  but  he  declined  this  otter  also. 
The  Arapahoes  went  back  more  terrified  than  ever. 
Weeks  passed  away,  and  still  no  dragoons  appeared. 
A  result  followed  which  all  those  best  acquainted 
with  Indians  had  predicted.  They  conceived  that 
fear  had  prevented  Bordeaux  from  accepting  their 
gifts,  and  that  they  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from 
the  vengeance  of  the  whites.  From  terror  they  rose 
to  the  height  of  insolence  and  presumption.  They 
called  the  white  men  cowards  and  old  women  ;  and 
a  friendly  Dahcotah  came  to  Fort  Laramie  and 
reported  that  they  were  determined  to  kill  the 
first  of  the  white  dogs  whom  they  could  lay  hands 
on. 

Had  a  militar}-  officer,  intrusted  with  suitable 
powers,  been  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie,  and  having 
accepted  the  ofter  of  the  Arapahoes  to  deliver  up 
the  murderer,  had  ordered  him  to  be  immediately 
led  out  and  shot,  in  presence  of  his  tribe,  they 
would  have  been  awed  into  tranquillit>,  and  much 
danger  and  calamity  averted  ;  but  now  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Medicine-Bow  Mountain  and  the  \ 
region  beyond  it  was  a  scene  of  extreme  peril. 
Old  Mene-Seela,  a  true  friend  of  the  whites,  and 
many  other  of  the  Indians,  gathered  about  the  two 
trappers,  and  vainly  endeavored  to  turn  them  from 
their  purpose  ;  but  Rouleau  and  Saraphin  only 
laughed  at  the  danger.  On  the  morning  preceding 
that  on  which  they  were  to  leave  the  camp,  we 
could  all  discern  faint  white  columns  of  smoke  ris- 
ing against  the  dark  base  of  the  Medicine  Bow. 
Scouts  were  out  immediately,  and  reported  that  * 
these    proceeded  from  an  Arapahoe  camp,    aban- 


262  THE    0  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

doned  only  a  few  hours  before.     Still  the  t\vo  trap- 
pers continued  their  preparations  for  departure. 

Saraphin  was  a  tall,  powerful  fellow,  with  a  sullen 
and  sinister  countenance.  His  rille  had  \&x\  prob- 
ably drawn  other  blood  than  that  of  buffalo  or  even 
Indians.  Rouleau  had  a  broad,  ruddy  face,  marked 
with  as  few  traces  of  thought  or  of  care  as  a  child"  s. 
His  figure  was  remarkably  square  and  strong,  but 
the  first  joints  of  both  his  feet  were  frozen  off.  and 
his  horse  had  lately  thrown  and  trampled  upon  him. 
by  which  he  had  been  severely  injured  in  the  chest. 
But  nothing  could  check  his  inveterate  propensity 
for  laughter  and  gayet\-.  He  went  all  day  rolhng 
about  the  camp  on  his  stumps  of  feet,  talking  and 
singing  and  frolicking  with  the  Indian  women  as 
they  were  engaged  at  their  work.  In  feet,  Rouleau 
had  an  unlucky  partiality  for  squaws.  He  always 
had  one,  whom  he  must  needs  bedizen  with  beads, 
ribbons,  and  all  the  finen.-  of  an  Indian  wardrobe  ; 
and  though  he  was.  of  course,  obliged  to  leave  her 
behind  him  during  his  expeditions,  yet  this  hazard- 
ous necessity  did  not  at  all  trouble  him,  for  his  dis- 
position was  the  ver^•  reverse  of  jealous.  If  at  any 
time  he  had  not  lavished  the  whole  of  the  precarious 
profits  of  his  vocation  upon  his  dark  favorite,  he 
always  devoted  the  rest  to  feasting  his  comrades. 
If  hquor  was  not  to  be  had — and  this  was  usually 
the  case — strong  coffee  would  be  substituted.  As 
the  men  of  that  region  are  by  no  means  remark- 
able for  providence  or  self-restraint,  whatever  was 
set  before  them  on  these  occasions,  however  ex- 
travagant in  price  or  enormous  in  quantity',  was 
sure  to  be  disposed  of  at  one  sitting.  Like  other 
trappers',  Rouleau's  life  was  one  of  contrast  and 
variet>-.  It  was  only  at  certain  seasons,  and  for  a 
liinited  time,  that  he  was  absent  on  his  expeditions. 
For  the  rest  of  the  vear  he  would  be  lounging  about 


THE    TRAPPERS.  263 

the  fort,  or  encamped  with  his  friends  in  its  vicinity, 
lazily  hunting  or  enjoying  all  the  luxur\'  of  inaction  ; 
but  when  once  in  pursuit  of  the  beaver,  he  was  in- 
volved in  extreme  privations  and  desperate  perils. 
When  in  the  midst  of  his  game  and  his  enemies, 
hand  and  foot,  eye  and  ear,  are  incessantly  active. 
Frequently  he  must  content  himself  with  devouring 
his  evening  meal  uncooked,  lest  the  light  of  his 
fire  should  attract  the  eyes  of  some  wandering 
Indian  ;  and  sometimes  having  made  his  rude 
repast,  he  must  leave  his  fire  still  blazing,  and  with- 
draw to  a  distance  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 
that  his  disappointed  enemy,  drawn  thither  by  the 
light,  may  find  his  victim  gone,  and  be  unable  to 
trace  his  footsteps  in  the  gloom.  This  is  the  life  led 
by  scores  of  men  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  their 
vicinity.  I  once  met  a  trapper  whose  breast  was 
marked  with  the  scars  of  six  bullets  and  arrows, 
one  of  his  arms  broken  by  a  shot,  and  one  of  his 
knees  shattered  ;  yet  still,  with  the  undaunted  met- 
tle of  New  England,  from  which  part  of  the  country 
he  had  come,  he  continued  to  follow  his  perilous 
occupation.  To  some  of  the  children  of  cities  it 
may  seem  strange  that  men  with  no  object  in  view 
should  continue  to  follow  a  life  of  such  hardship  and 
desperate  adventure,  yet  there  is  a  mysterious,  re- 
sistless charm  in  the  basilisk  eye  of  danger,  and  few 
men  perhaps  remain  long  in  that  wild  region  with- 
out learning  to  love  peril  for  its  own  sake,  and  to 
Iciugh  carelessly  in  the  face  of  death. 

On  the  last  day  of  our  stay  in  this  camp  the  trap- 
pers were  ready  for  departure.  WTien  in  the  Black 
Hills  they  had  caught  seven  beaver,  and  they  now 
left  their  skins  in  charge  of  Reynal,  to  be  kept  until 
their  return.  Their  strong,  gaunt  horses  were 
equipped  with  rusty  Spanish  bits  and  rude  Mexican 
saddles,  to  which  wooden  stirrups  were  attached. 


264  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

wiule.a  buSalo-robe  was  rolled  up  behind  them,  and 
a  bundle  of  beaver  baps  slung  at  the  pommel. 
These,  together  with  their  rifles,  their  knives,  their 
powder-horns  and  buU^-pouches.  flint  and  steel,  and 
a  tin  cup,  composed  their  whole  travelling  equip- 
ment. They  shook  hands  with  us  and  rode  away  ; 
Saraphin.  with  his  grim  countenance,  like  a  surly 
bull-dog's,  was  in  advance  ;  but  Rouleau,  clamber- 
ing gayly  into  his  seat,  kicked  his  horse's  sides, 
flourished  his  whip  in  the  air.  and  trotted  briskly 
over  the  prairie,  trolling  forth  a  Canadian  song  at 
the  top  of  his  lungs.  Rex-nal  looked  after  them 
with  his  fece  of  brutal  selfishness. 

"WeU,"  he  said,  "if  they  are  killed,  1  shall 
have  the  beaver.  Tliej-'ll  fetch  me  fifh"  dollars  at 
the  fort,  anyhow." 

This  was  the  last  I  saw  of  them. 

We  had  been  for  five  days  in  the  hunting  camp, 
and  the  meat,  which  all  this  time  had  hung  drying 
in  the  sun,  was  now  fit  for  transportation.  Bu^lo- 
hides  also  had^been  procured  in  sufficient  quantities 
for  maVing  the  next  season's  lodges ;  but  it  re- 
mained to  provide  the  long  slender  poles  on  which 
they  were  to  be  supported.  These  were  only  to  be 
had  among  the  tall  pine  woods  of  the  Black  Hills, 
and  in  that  direction,  therefore,  our  next  move  was 
to  be  made.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  amid  the 
general  abundance  which  during  this  time  had  pre- 
vailed in  the  camp,  there  were  no  instances  of  indi- 
vidual privation  ;  for  although  the  hide  and  the 
tongue  of  the  buffido  belong  by  exclusive  right  to 
the  hunter  who  has  killed  it,  yet  anyone  else  is 
equally  entitled  to  help  himself  bova.  the  rest  of  the 
carcass.  Thus  the  weak,  the  aged,  and  even  the 
indolent  come  in  for  a  share  of  the  spoils,  and  many 
a  helpless  old  woman,  who  would  otherwise  perish 
from  starvation,  is  sustained  in  profiise  abundance. 


THE    TRAPPERS.  265 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
the  camp  broke  up,  with  the  usual  tumult  and  con- 
fusion, and  we  were  all  moving  once  more,  on 
horseback  and  on  foot,  over  the  plains.  We  ad- 
vanced, however,  but  a  few  miles.  The  old  men, 
who  during  the  whole  march  had  been  stoutly  strid- 
ing along  on  foot  in  front  of  the  people,  now  seated 
themselves  in  a  circle  on  the  ground,  while  all  the 
families  erecting  their  lodges  in  the  prescribed  order 
around  them,  formed  the  usual  great  circle  of  the 
camp  ;  meanwhile  these  village  patriarchs  sat 
smoking  and  talking.  1  threw  my  bridle  to  Ray- 
mond, and  sat  down  as  usual  along  with  them. 
There  was  none  of  that  reserve  and  apparent  dignity 
which  an  Indian  always  assumes  when  in  council, 
or  in  the  presence  of  white  men  whom  he  distrusts. 
The  party,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  extremely  merry 
one,  and  as  in  a  social  circle  of  a  Cjuite  different 
character,  ' '  if  there  was  not  much  wit,  there  was  at 
least  a  great  deal  of  laughter. 

When  the  first  pipe  was  smoked  out,  I  rose  and 
withdrew  to  the  lodge  of  my  host.  Here  I  was 
stooping,  in  the  act  of  taking  off  my  powder-horn 
and  bullet-pouch,  when  suddenly,  and  close  at  hand, 
pealing  loud  and  shrill,  and  in  right  good  earnest, 
came  the  terrific  yell  of  the  war-whoop.  Kongra- 
Tonga's  squaw  snatched  up  her  youngest  child,  and 
ran  out  of  the  lodge.  I  followed,  and  found  the 
whole  village  in  confusion,  resounding  with  cries  and 
yells.  The  circle  of  old  men  in  the  centre  had 
vanished.  The  warriors  with  glittering  eyes  came 
darting,  their  weapons  in  their  hands,  out  of  the  low 
openings  of  the  lodges,  and  nmning  with  wild  yells 
toward  the  farther  end  of  the  village.  Advancing 
a  few  rods  in  that  direction,  I  saw  a  crowd  in  furious 
agitation,  while  others  ran  up  on  every  side  to  add 
to  the   confusion.      Just   then    I    distinguished   the 


266  THE    OREGCX  TRAIL. 

voices  of  Raymond  and  Reynal.  shouting  to  me 
from  a  distance,  and  looking  back  I  saw  the  latter 
with  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  standing  on  the  farther 
bank  of  a  httle  stream  that  ran  along  the  outskirts 
of  the  camp.  He  was  calling  to  Raymond  and 
myself  to  come  over  and  join  him,  and  Raymond, 
with  his  usual  deUberate  gait  and  stohd  countenance, 
was  already  moving  in  that  direction. 

This  was  clearly  the  wisest  course,  unless  we 
wished  to  involve  ourselves  in  the  fi^y  ;  so  1  turned 
to  go.  but  just  then  a  pair  of  eyes,  gleaming  like  a 
snake's,  and  an  aged  familiar  countenance  was 
thrust  from  the  opening  of  a  neighboring  lodge,  and 
out  bolted  old  Mene-Seela,  fuU  of  fight,  clutching 
his  bow  and  arrows  in  one  hand  and  his  knife  in  the 
other.  At  that  instant  he  tripped  and  feU  sprawl- 
ing on  his  face,  while  his  weapons  flew  scattering 
away  in  ever)-  direction.  The  women,  with  loud 
screams,  were  hurrying  with  their  children  in  their 
arms  to  place  them  out  of  danger,  and  I  observed 
some  hastening  to  prevent  mischief  by  carr}ing 
away  all  the  weapons  they  could  lay  hands  on.  On 
a  rising  ground  close  to  the  camp  stood  a  line  of 
old  women  singing  a  medicine-song  to  allay  the 
tumulL  As  I  approached  the  side  of  the  brook,  I 
heard  gun-shots  behind  me,  and  turning  back,  I 
saw  that  the  crowd  had  separated  into  two  long 
lines  of  naked  warriors  confronting  each  other  at  a 
res|>ectful  distance,  and  yelling  and  jumping  about 
to  dodge  the  shot  of  their  adversaries,  while  they 
discharged  bullets  and  arrows  against  each  other. 
At  the  same  time  certain  sharp,  humming  sounds  in 
the  air  over  my  head,  like  the  flight  of  beeties  on  a 
summer  evening,  warned  me  that  the  danger  was 
not  wholly  confined  to  the  immediate  scene  of  the 
ftay.  So,  wading  through  the  brook.  I  joined 
Reynal  and   Ravmond,   and  we  sat  down  on  the 


THE    TRAPPERS.  267 

grass,    in  the   posture   of  an   armed   neutrality,    to 
watch  the  result. 

Happily  it  may  be  for  ourselves,  though  quite 
contrarv-  to  our  expectation,  the  disturbance  was 
quelled  almost  as  soon  as  it  had  commenced. 
\\'hen  I  looked  again,  the  combatants  were  once 
more  mingled  together  in  a  mass.  Though  yells 
sounded  occasionally  from  the  throng,  the  firing  had 
entirely  ceased,  and'  I  observed  five  or  si.x  persons 
moving  busily  about,  as  if  acting  the  part  of  peace- 
makers. One  of  the  village  heralds  or  criers  pro- 
claimed in  a  loud  voice  something  which  my  two 
companions  were  too  much  engrossed  in  their  own 
obsenations  to  translate  for  me.  The  crowd  began 
to  disperse,  though  many  a  deep-set  black  eye  still 
glittered  with  an  unnatural  lustre,  as  the  warriors 
slowly  withdrew  to  their  lodges.  This  fortunate 
suppression  of  the  disturbance  was  owing  to  a  few 
of  the  old  men,  less  pugnacious  than  Mene-Seela, 
who  boldly  ran  in  between  the  combatants,  and, 
aided  by  some  of  the  "  soldiers,"  or  Indian  pohce, 
succeeded  in  effecting  their  object. 

It  seemed  ven,-  strange  to  me  that  although  many 
arrows  and  bullets  were  discharged,  no  one  was 
mortally  hurt,  and  1  could  only  account  for  this  by 
the  fact  that  both  the  marksman  and  the  object  of 
his  aim  were  leaping  about  incessantly  during  the 
whole  time.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  villagers 
had  joined  in  the  fray,  for  although  there  were  not 
more  than  a  dozen  guns  in  the  whole  camp,  I  heard 
at  least  eight  or  ten  shots  fired. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  all  was  comparatively 
quiet.  A  large  circle  of  warriors  was  again  seated 
in  the  centre  of  the  village,  but  this  time  I  did  not 
'  venture  to  join  them,  because  I  could  see  that  the 
pipe,  contrar\-  to  the  usual  order,  was  passing  from 
the  left  hand  to  the  right  around  the  circle  ;  a  sure 


268  THE   O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

sign  that  a  "  medicine-smoke  "  of  reconciliation  was 
going  forward,  and  that  a  white  man  would  be  an 
Bnwelcome  intruder,  ^^'hen  I  again  entered  the 
still  agitated  camp  it  was  nearlj*  dark,  and  mournful 
cries,  howls,  and  wailirgs  resounded  from  many 
female  vchccs.  WTiether  these  had  any  connection 
witb  the  late  disturbance,  or  were  merely  lamenta- 
tknis  for  relatiA^es  slain  in  some  former  war  expedi- 
tions, I  could  not  distinctly  ascertain. 

To  inquire  too  closely  into  the  cause  of  the  quarrel 
was  by  no  means  prudent,  and  it  was  not  until  some 
time  after  that  1  discovered  what  had  gi\"en  rise  to 
it.  Among  the  Dahcotah  there  are  many  associa- 
tions, or  fraternities,  connected  vi-ith  the  purposes 
<rf  tfaor  superstitions,  their  warfare,  or  their  social 
Kbb.  There  was  one  called  ' '  The  .\rrow-Breakers, 
now  in  a  great  measure  disbanded  and  dispersed. 
In  the  village  there  were,  however,  four  men  be- 
loi^[ing  to  it,  distinguished  by  the  pecuhar  arrange- 
lossA.  dL  their  hair,  which  rose  in  a  high  bristling 
mass  above  their  foreheads,  adding  greatly  to  their 
apparent  height,  and  giving  them  a  most  ferocious 
appearance.  The  principal  among  them  was  the 
]\lad  Wolf,  a  warrior  of  remarkable  size  and  strength, 
great  courage,  and  the  fierceness  of  a  demon.  I 
had  always  looked  upon  him  as  the  most  dangerous 
man  in  the  A-illage  ;  and  though  he  often  in\-ited 
me  to  feasts,  I  never  entered  his  lodge  unarmed. 
The  Mad  Wolf  had  taken  a  fancy  to  a  fine  horse 
belonging  to  another  Indian,  who  was  called  the 
Tall  Bear  ;  and  anxious  to  get  the  animal  into  his 
possession,  he  made  the  owner  a  present  of  another 
h'-—  ----ly  equal  in  value.  According  to  the  cus- 
T  :e   Dahcotah,  the  acceptance  of  this  gift 

iii .  , .  ea  a  sort  of  obligation  to  make  an  equitable 
return  ;  and  the  Tall  Bear  well  understood  that  the 
other  had  in  ^"iew  the  oblainincr  of  his  favorite  buffalo- 


THE    TRAPrERS.  269 

horse.  He,  however,  accepted  the  present  without 
a  word  of  thanks,  and  having  picketed  the  horse 
before  his'  lodge,  he  suffered  day  after  day  to  pass 
without  making  the  expected  return.  The  Mad 
Wolf  grew  impatient  and  angry  ;  and  at  last,  seeing 
that  his  bounty  was  not  likely  to  produce  the  desired 
return,  he  resolved  to  reclaim  it.  So  this  evening, 
as  soon  as  the  village  was  encamped,  he  went  to  the 
lodge  of  the  Tall  Bear,  seized  upon  the  horse  that 
he  had  given  him,  and  lead  him  away.  At  this  the 
Tall  Bear  broke  into  one  of  those  fits  of  sullen  rage 
not  uncommon  among  the  Indians.  He  ran  up  to 
the  unfortunate  horse,  and  gave  him  three  inortal 
stabs  with  his  knife.  Quick  as  lightning  the  Mad 
Wolf  drew  his  bow  to  its  utmost  tension,  and  held 
the  arrow  quivering  close  to  the  breast  of  his  adver- 
sary. The  Tall  Bear,  as  the  Indians  who  were  near 
him  said,  stood  with  his  bloody  knife  in  his  hand, 
facing  the  assailant  with  the  utmost  calmness.  Some 
of  his  friends  and  relatives,  seeing  his  danger,  ran 
hastily  to  his  assistance.  The  remaining  three 
Arrow-Breakers,  on  the  other  hand,  came  to  the 
aid  of  their  associate.  Many  of  their  friends  joined 
them,  the  war-cr)'  was  raised  on  a  sudden,  and  the 
tumult  became  general. 

The  "soldiers,"  who  lent  their  timely  aid  in  put- 
ting it  down,  are  by  far  the  most  important  executive 
functionaries  in  an  Indian  village.  The  office  is 
one  of  considerable  honor,  being  confided  only  to 
men  of  courage  and  repute.  They  derive  their 
authority  from  the  old  men  and  chief  warriors  of  the 
village,  who  elect  them  in  councils  occasionally 
convened  for  the  puipose,  and  thus  can  exercise  a 
degree  of  authority  which  no  one  else  in  the  village 
would  dare  to  assume.  While  \cry  few  Ogillallah 
chiefs  could  venture  without  instant  jeopardy  of  their 
lives  to  strike  or  lay  hands  upon  the  meanest  of  their 


2/0  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

people,  the  "soldiers,"  in  the  discharge  of  their 
appropriate  functions,  have  fall  hcense  to  make  use 
of  these  and  similar  acts  of  coercion. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    BLACK    HILLS. 

"  To  sit  on  rocks,  to  muse  o'er  flood  and  fell, 
To  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene, 
^^^lere  things  that  own  not  man's  dominion  dweU, 
And  mortal  foot  hath  ne'er,  or  rarely  been ; 
To  climb  the  trackless  mountain  all  unseen. 
With  the  wild  flock  that  never  needs  a  fold ; 
Alone  o'er  steeps  and  foaming  tails  to  lean ; 
This  is  not  sohtude ;  'tis  but  to  hold 

Converse  with  Nature's  charms,  and  view  her  stores  un- 
rolled."— Childe  Harold. 

We  travelled  eastward  for  two  days,  and  then  the 
gloomv  ridges  of  the  Black  Hills  rose  up  before  us. 
The  village  passed  along  for  some  miles  beneath 
their  declivities,  traihng  out  to  a  great  length  over 
the  arid  prairie,  or  winding  at  times  among  small 
detached  hills  of  distorted  shapes.  Turning  sharply 
to  the  left,  we  entered  a  wide  defile  of  the  moun- 
tains, down  the  bottom  of  which  a  brook  came 
winding,  lined  with  tall  grass  and  dense  copses, 
amid  which  were  hidden  many  beaver-dams  and 
lodges.  We  passed  along  bet^veen  two  lines  of 
high  precipices  and  rocks,  piled  in  utter  disorder 
one  upon  another,  and  with  scarcely  a  tree,  a  bush, 
or  a  clump  of  grass  to  veil  their  nakedness.  The 
restless  Indian  boys  were  wandering  along  their 
edges  and  clambering  up  and  down  their  rugged 
sides,  and  sometimes  a  group  of  them  would  stand 


THE  BLACK  HILLS.  2/1 

on  the  verge  of  a  cliff  and  look  down  on  the  array 
as  it  passed  in  review  beneath  them.  As  we  ad- 
vanced, the  passage  grew  more  narrow  ;  then  it 
suddenly  expanded  into  a  round  grassy  meadow, 
completely  encompassed  by  mountains  ;  and  here 
the  families  stopped  as  they  came  up  in  turn,  and 
the  camp  rose  like  magic. 

The  lodges  were  hardly  erected  when,  with  their 
usual  precipitation,  the  Indians  set  about  accom- 
plishing the  object  that  had  brought  them  there  ; 
that  is,  the  obtaining  poles  for  supporting  their  new 
lodges.  Half  the  population,  men,  women,  and  boys, 
mounted  their  horses  and  set  out  for  the  interior  of 
the  mountains.  As  they  rode  at  full  gallop  over  the 
shingly  rocks  and  into  the  dark  opening  of  the  defile 
beyond,  1  thought  1  had  never  read  or  dreamed  of  a 
more  strange  or  picturesque  cavalcade.  We  passed 
between  precipices  more  than  a  thousand  feet  high, 
sharp  and  splintering  at  the  tops,  their  sides  beethng 
over  the  defile  or  descending  in  abrupt  declivities, 
bristling  with  black  fir  trees.  On  our  left  they  rose 
close  to  us  like  a  wall,  but  on  the  right  a  winding 
brook  with  a  narrow  strip  of  marshy  soil  inter\ened. 
The  stream  was  clogged  with  old  beaver-dams  and 
spread  frequently  into  wide  pools.  There  were  thick 
bushes  and  many  dead  and  blasted  trees  along  its 
course,  though  frequently  nothing  remained  but 
stumps  cut  close  to  the  ground  by  the  beaver,  and 
marked  with  the  sharp  chisel-like  teeth  of  those 
indefatigable  laborers.  Sometimes  we  were  diving 
among  trees,  and  then  emerging  upon  open  spots, 
over  which,  Indian-like,  all  galloped  at  full  speed. 
As  Pauline  bounded  over  the  rocks  I  felt  her  saddle- 
girth  slipping,  and  alighted  to  draw  it  tighter  ;  when 
the  whole  array  swept  past  me  in  a  moment,  the 
women  with  their  gaudy  ornaments  tinkling  as  they 
rode,   the  men  whooping  and  laughing  and  lash- 


272  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

ing  forward  their  horses.  Two  black-tailed  deer 
bounded  away  among  the  rocks  ;  Raymond  shot  at 
them  from  horseback  ;  the  sharp  report  of  his  rifle 
was  answered  by  another  equally  sharp  from  the 
opposing  cliffs,  and  then  the  echoes,  leaping  in 
rapid  succession  from  side  to  side,  died  away,  rat- 
tling far  amid  the  mountains. 

After  haAing  ridden  in  this  manner  for  six  or  eight 
miles,  the  appearance  of  the  scene  began  to  change, 
and  all  the  declivities  around  us  were  covered  with 
forests  of  tall,  slender  pine  trees.  The  Indians  be- 
gan to  fall  off  to  the  right  and  left,  and  dispersed 
with  their  hatchets  and  knives  among  these  woods, 
to  cut  the  poles  which  they  had  come  to  seek.  Soon 
1  was  left  almost  alone  ;  but  in  the  deep  stillness  of 
those  lonely  mountains  the  stroke  of  hatchets  and 
the  sound  of  voices  might  be  heard  from  far  and 
near. 

Reynal,  who  imitated  the  Indians  in  their  habits 
as  well  as  the  worst  features  of  their  character,  had 
killed  buffalo  enough  to  make  a  lodge  for  himself 
and  his  squaw,  and  now  he  was  eager  to  get  the 
poles  necessan,-  to  complete  it.  He  asked  me  to 
let  Raymond  go  with  him  and  assist  in  the  work. 
I  assented,  and  the  two  men  immediately  entered 
the  thickest  part  of  the  wood.  Having  left  my 
horse  in  Raymond's  keeping,  I  began  to  climb  the 
mountain.  I  was  weak  and  wean",  and  made  slow 
progress,  often  pausing  to  rest,  but  after  an  hour  had 
elapsed,  I  gained  a  height,  whence  the  httle  valley 
out  of  which  I  had  climbed  seemed  like  a  deep, 
dark  gulf,  though  the  inaccessible  peak  of  the  moun- 
tain was  still  towering  to  a  much  gn"eater  distance 
above.  Objects  familiar  from  childhood  surrounded 
me  :  crags  and  rocks,  a  black  and  sullen  brook  that 
gurgled  with  a  hollow  voice  deep  among  the  crev- 
ices, a  wood  of  mossy,  distorted  trees  and  prostrate 


*«^e 


t^t^^gl^x^^ 


THE  BLACK  HILLS.  2/3 

trunks  flung  down  by  age  and  storms,  scattered 
among  the  rocks  or  damming  the  foaming  waters 
of  the  little  brook.  The  objects  were  the  same,  yet 
they  were  thrown  into  a  wilder  and  more  startling 
scene,  for  the  black  crags  and  the  savage  trees 
assumed  a  grim  and  threatening  aspect,  and  close 
across  the  valley  the  opposing  mountain  confronted 
me,  rising  from  the  gulf  for  thousands  of  feet,  with 
its  bare  pinnacles  and  its  ragged  covering  of  pines. 
Yet  the  scene  was  not  without  its  milder  features. 
As  I  ascended,  I  found  frequent  little  grassy  ter- 
races, and  there  was  one  of  these  close  at  hand, 
across  which  the  brook  was  stealing,  beneath  the 
shade  of  scattered  trees  that  seemed  artificially 
planted.  Here  I  made  a  welcome  discovery- ,  no 
other  than  a  bed  of  strawberries,  with  their  white 
flowers  and  their  red  fruit,  closely  nestled  among  the 
grass  by  the  side  of  the  brook,  and  I  sat  down  by 
them,  hailing  them  as  old  acquaintances  ;  for  among 
those  lonely  and  perilous  mountains,  they  awakened 
delicious  associations  of  the  gardens  and  peaceful 
homes  of  far-distant  New  England. 

Yet,  wild  as  they  were,  these  mountains  were 
thickly  peopled.  As  I  chmbed  farther,  I  found  the 
broad  dust)'  paths  made  by  the  elk,  as  they  filed 
across  the  mountain  side.  The  grass  on  all  the 
terraces  was  trampled  down  by  deer  ;  there  were 
numerous  tracks  of  wolves,  and  in  some  of  the 
rougher  and  more  precipitous  parts  of  the  ascent,  I 
found  foot-prints  different  from  any  that  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  which  I  took  to  be  those  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  sheep.  I  sat  down  upon  a  rock  ;  there 
was  a  perfect  stillness.  No  wind  was  stirring,  and 
not  even  an  insect  could  be  heard.  I  recollected 
the  danger  of  becoming  lost  in  such  a  place,  and 
therefore  1  fixed  my  eye  upon  one  of  the  tallest 
pinnacles  of  the  opposite  mountain.  It  rose  sheer 
13 


274  ^-^^    OREGON  TRAIL. 

upright  from  the  woods  below,  and  by  an  extraor- 
dinan.-  freak  of  nature,  sustained  aloft  on  its  very 
summit  a  large  loose  rock.  Such  a  landmark  could 
never  be  mistaken,  and  feehng  once  more  secure,  I 
began  again  to  move  forward.  A  white  wolf  jumped 
up  from  among  some  bushes,  and  leaped  clumsily 
away  ;  but  he  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  turned 
back  his  keen  eye  and  his  grim  bristhng  muzzle.  I 
longed  to  take  his  scalp  and  carr}-  it  back  with  me, 
as  an  appropriate  trophy  of  the  Black  Hills,  but  be- 
fore I  could  fire,  he  was  gone  among  the  rocks. 
Soon  after  I  heard  a  rustling  sound,  with  a  cracking 
of  rv\igs  at  a  little  distance,  and  saw  moving  above 
the  tall  bushes  the  branching  antlers  of  an  elk.  I 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  hunter's  paradise. 

Such  are  the  Black  Hills  as  1  found  them  in  July  ; 
but  they  wear  a  different  garb  when  winter  sets  in, 
when  the  broad  boughs  of  the  fir  tree  are  bent  to 
the  ground  by  the  load  of  snow,  and  the  dark 
mountains  are  whitened  w\ih  it.  At  that  season 
the  mountain -trappers,  returned  from  their  autumn 
expeditions,  often  build  their  rude  cabins  in  the 
midst  of  these  solitudes,  and  live  in  abundance  and 
luxur)-  on  the  game  that  harbors  there.  I  have  heard 
them  relate  how,  with  their  tawny  mistresses,  and 
perhaps  a  few  young  Indian  companions,  they  have 
spent  months  in  total  seclusion.  They  would  dig  pit- 
falls, and  set  traps  for  the  white  wolves,  the  sables, 
and  the  martens,  and  though  through  the  whole 
night  the  awful  chorus  of  the  wolves  would  resound 
from  the  frozen  mountains  around  them,  yet  within 
their  massive  walls  of  logs  they  would  lie  in  careless 
ease  and  comfort  before  the  blazing  fire,  and  in  the 
morning  shoot  the  elk  and  the  deer  from  their  very 
door. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

A   MOUXTAIX    HUNT. 

"  Come,  shall  we  go  and  kill  us  venison  ? 
And  yet  it  irks  me.  the  poor  dappled  fools. 
Being  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city. 
Should  in  their  own  confines,  with  forked  heads. 
Have  their  round  haunches  gored." 

As  You  Like  It. 

^  The  camp  was  full  of  the  newly  cut  lodge-poles  ; 
some,  already  prepared,  were  stacked  together, 
white  and  glistening,  to  dr>-  and  harden  in  the  sun  ; 
others  were  lying  on  the  ground,  and  the  squaws, 
the  boys,  and  even  some  of  the  warriors,  were 
busily  at  work  peeUng  off  the  bark  and  paring  them 
^^^th  their  knives  to  the  proper  dimensions.  Most 
of  the  hides  obtained  at  the  last  camp  were  dressed 
and  scraped  thin  enough  for  use,  and  many  of  the 
squaws  were  engaged  in  fitting  them  together  and 
sewing  them  with  sinews,  to  form  the  coverings  for 
the  lodges.  .Men  were  wandering  among  the 
bushes  that  lined  the  brook  along  the  margin 
of  the  camp,  cutting  sticks  of  red  willow,  or  shong- 
sasha,  the  bark  of  which,  mixed  with  tobacco, 
they  use  for  smoking.  Reynals  squaw  was  hard  at 
work  with  her  awl  and  buffalo-sinews  upon  her 
lodge,  while  her  proprietor,  having  just  finished  an 
enormous  breakfast  of  meat,  was  smoking  a  social 
pipe  along  with  Raymond  and  myself.  He  proposed 
ex  length  that  we  should  go  out  on  a  hunt.  ' "  Go  to 
the  Big  Crow's  lodge,"  said  he.  "  and  get  your  rifle. 
I'll  bet  the  gray  Wyandot  pony  against  your  mare 
that  we  start  an  elk  or  a  black-tailed  deer,  or  likely 
as  not,  a  big-horn,  before  we  are  two  miles  out  of 
camp.       I'll  take  my   squaws   old    yellow  horse; 

275 


276  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

you  can't  whip  her  more  than  four  miles  an  hour, 
but  she  is  as  good  for  the  mountains  as  a  mule. ' ' 

I  mounted  the  black  mule  which  Raymond  usually 
rode.  She  was  a  ver\-  fine  and  powerful  animal, 
gentle  and  manageable  enough  by  nature  ;  but  of 
late  her  temper  had  been  soured  by  misfortune. 
About  a  week  before  1  had  chanced  to  offend  some 
one  of  the  Indians,  who,  out  of  revenge,  went  se- 
cretly into  the  meadow  and  gave  her  a  severe  stab 
in  the  haunch  with  his  knife.  The  wound,  though 
partially  healed,  still  gaUed  her  extremely,  and 
made  her  even  more  per\-erse  and  obstinate  than 
the  rest  of  her  species. 

The  morning  was  a  glorious  one,  and  I  was  in 
better  health  than  I  had  been  at  any  time  for  the 
last  two  months.  Though  a  strong  frame  and  well- 
compacted  sinews  had  borne  me  through  hitherto,  it 
was  long  since  1  had  been  in  a  condition  to  feel  the 
exhilaration  of  the  fresh  mountain-wind  and  the  gay 
sunshine  that  brightened  the  crags  and  trees.  We 
left  the  little  valley  and  ascended  a  reeky  hollow  in 
the  mountain.  \'ery  soon  we  were  out  of  sight  of 
the  camp,  and  of  ever\-  living  thing,  man,  beast, 
bird,  or  insect.  I  had  never  before,  except  on  foot, 
passed  over  such  execrable  ground,  and  I  desire 
never  to  repeat  the  experiment.  The  black  mule 
grew  indignant,  and  even  the  redoubtable  yellow- 
horse  stumbled  ever\-  moment,  and  kept  groaning 
to  himself  as  he  cut  his  feet  and  legs  among  the 
sharp  rocks. 

It  was  a  scene  of  silence  and  desolation.  Little 
was  \-isible  except  beetling  crags  and  the  bare 
shingly  sides  of  the  mountains,  relieved  by  scarcely 
a  trace  of  vegetation.  At  length,  however,  we 
came  upon  a  forest  tract,  and  had  no  sooner  done 
so  than  we  heartily  wished  ourselves  back  among 
the  rocks  again  ;  for  we  were  on  a  steep  descent. 


.4   MOi'XTAIX  HUXT.  2// 

among  trees  so  thick  that  we  could  see  scarcely  a 
rod  in  any  direction. 

If  one  is  anxious  to  place  himself  in  a  situation 
where  the  hazardous  and  the  ludicrous  are  combined 
in  about  equal  proportions,  let  him  get  upon  a 
vicious  mule,  with  a  snaffle-bit,  and  \x\  to  drive  her 
through  the  woods  down  a  slope  of  forty -five  de- 
grees. Let  him  have  a  long  rille,  a  buckskin  frock 
with  long  fringes,  and  a  head  of  long  hair.  These 
latter  appendages  will  be  caught  ever)-  moment  and 
twitched  away  in  small  portions  by  the  t\%igs,  which 
will  also  whip  him  smartly  across  the  face,  while 
the  large  branches  above  thump  him  on  the  head. 
His  mule,  if  she  be  a  true  one,  will  alternately  stop 
short  and  dive  violently  forward,  and  his  positions 
upon  her  back  will  be  somewhat  diversified  and 
extraordinar)-.  At  one  time  he  will  clasp  her  affec- 
tionately, to  avoid  the  blow  of  a  bough  overhead  ; 
at  another,  he  will  throw  himself  back  and  fling  his 
knee  forward  against  the  side  of  her  neck,  to  keep 
it  from  being  crushed  between  the  rough  bark  of  a 
tree  and  the  equally  unyielding  ribs  of  the  animal 
herself  Reynal  was  cursing  incessantly  during  the 
whole  way  down.  Neither  of  us  had  the  remotest 
idea  where  we  were  going  ;  and  though  I  have  seen 
rough  riding,  I  shall  always  retain  an  evil  recollec- 
tion of  that  five  minutes'  scramble. 

At  last  we  left  our  troubles  behind  us,  emerging 
into  the  channel  of  a  brook  that  circled  along  the 
foot  of  the  descent  ;  and  here,  turning  joyfully  to 
the  left,  we  rode  in  luxury-  and  ease  over  the  white 
pebbles  and  the  rippling  water,  shaded  from  the 
glaring  sun  by  an  overarching  green  transparency. 
These  halcyon  moments  were  of  short  duration. 
The  friendly  brook,  turning  sharply  to  one  side, 
went  brawling  and  foaming  down  the  rocky  hill  into 
an  abyss,  which,  as  far  as  we  could  discern,  had 


2/8  THE    O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

no  bottom  ;  so  once  more  we  betook  ourselves  to  the 
detested  woods.  When  next  we  came  forth  from 
their  dancing  shadow  and  sunhght,  we  found  our- 
selves standing  in  the  broad  glare  of  day,  on  a  high 
jutting  point  of  the  mountain.  Before  us  stretched 
a  long,  wide,  desert  valley,  winding  away  far  amid 
the  mountains.  No  civihzed  eye  but  mine  had  ever 
looked  upon  that  virgin  waste.  Reynal  was  gazing 
intently  ;  he  began  to  speak  at  last  : 

' '  Many  a  time,  when  1  was  with  the  Indians,  I 
have  been  hunting  for  gold  all  through  the  Black 
Hills.  There's  plenty  of  it  here  ;  you  may  be 
certain  of  that.  I  have  dreamed  about  it  fifh"  rimes, 
and  I  nexer  dreamed  yet  but  what  it  came  out  true. 
Look  over  yonder  at  those  black  rocks  piled  up 
against  that  other  big  rock.  Don't  it  look  as  if 
there  might  be  something  there  ?  It  woji't  do  for  a 
white  man  to  be  rummaging  too  much  about  these 
mountains  ;  the  Indians  say  they  are  full  of  bad 
spirits  ;  and  I  believe  myself  that  it's  no  good  luck 
to  be  hunting  about  here  after  gold.  Well,  for  all 
that,  1  would  like  to  have  one  of  these  fellows  up 
here  from  down  below,  to  go  about  with  his  witch- 
hazel  rod,  and  I'll  guarantee  that  it  would  not  be 
long  before  he  would  light  on  a  gold-mine.  Never 
mind  ;  we'll  let  the  gold  alone  for  to-day.  Look  at 
those  trees  down  below  us  in  the  hollow  ;  we'll  go 
down  there,  and  I  reckon  we'll  get  a  black -tailed 
deer. 

But  Reynal' s  predictions  were  not  verified.  We 
passed  mountain  after  mountain,  and  valley  after 
valley  ;  we  explored  deep  ravines  ;  yet  still,  to  my 
companion's  vexation  and  evident  surprise,  no  game 
could  be  found.  So,  in  the  absence  of  better,  we 
resolved  to  go  out  on  the  plains  and  look  for  an 
antelope.  With  this  view  we  began  to  pass  down  a 
naiTOw  vallev,   the  bottom  of  which  was  covered 


A   MOUNTAIN  HUNT.  279 

with  the  stiff  wild-sage  bushes,  and  marked  with 
deep  paths  made  by  the  buffalo,  who,  for  some  in- 
explicable reason,  are  accustomed  to  penetrate,  in 
their  long  grave  processions,  deep  among  the  gorges 
of  these  sterile  mountains. 

Reynal's  eye  was  ranging  incessantly  among  the 
rocks  and  along  the  edges  of  the  black  precipices, 
in  hopes  of  discovering  the  mountain-sheep  peering 
down  upon  us  in  fancied  security  from  that  giddy 
elevation.  Nothing  was  visible  for  some  time.  At 
length  we  both  detected  something  in  motion  near 
the  foot  of  one  of  the  mountains,  and  in  a  moment 
afterward  a  black-tailed  deer,  with  his  spreading 
antlers,  stood  gazing  at  us  from  the  top  of  a  rock, 
and  then,  slowly  turning  away,  disappeared  behind 
it.  In  an  instant  Reynal  was  out  of  his  saddle,  and 
running  toward  the  spot.  I,  being  too  weak  to  fol- 
low, sat  holding  his  horse  and  waiting  the  result. 
I  lost  sight  of  him,  then  heard  the  report  of  his  rifle 
deadened  among  the  rocks,  and  finally  saw  him  re- 
appear, with  a  surly  look,  that  plainly  betrayed  his 
ill  success.  Again  we  moved  forward  down  the 
long  valley,  when  soon  after  we  came  full  upon 
what  seemed  a  wide  and  very  shallow  ditch,  in- 
crusted  at  the  bottom  with  white  clay,  dried  and 
cracked  in  the  sun.  Under  this  fair  outside,  Rey- 
nal's eye  detected  the  signs  of  lurking  mischief. 
He  called  me  to  stop,  and  then  alighting,  picked  up 
a  stone  and  threw  it  into  the  ditch.  To  my  utter 
amazement  it  fell  with  a  dull  splash,  breaking  at 
once  through  the  thin  crust,  and  spattering  round 
the  hole  a  yellowish  creamy  fluid,  into  which  it 
sank  and  disappeared.  A  stick,  five  or  six  feet 
long,  lay  on  the  ground,  and  with  this  we  sounded 
the  insidious  abyss  close  to  its  edge.  It  was  just 
possible  to  touch  the  bottom.  Places  like  this  are 
numerous     among     the    Rocky    Mountains.      The 


28o  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

buffalo,  in  his  blind  and  heedless  walk,  often  plunges 
into  them  unawares.  Down  he  sinks  ;  one  snort  of 
terror,  one  convulsive  struggle,  and  the  slime  calmly 
flows  above  his  shaggy  head,  the  languid  undula- 
tions of  its  sleek  and  placid  surface  alone  betraying 
how  the  powerful  monster  writhes  in  his  death-throes 
below. 

We  found,  after  some  trouble,  a  point  where  we 
could  pass  the  abyss,  and  now  the  valley  began  to 
open  upon  the  plains  which  spread  to  the  horizon 
before  us.  On  one  of  their  distant  swells  we  dis- 
cerned three  or  four  black  specks,  which  Reynal 
pronounced  to  be  buffalo. 

"Come,"  said  he,  "we  must  get  one  of  them. 
My  squaw  wants  more  sinews  to  finish  her  lodge 
with,  and  1  want  some  glue  myself." 

He  immediately  put  the  yellow  horse  to  such  a 
gallop  as  he  was  capable  of  executing,  while  I  set 
spurs  to  the  mule,  who  soon  far  outrun  her  plebeian 
rival.  When  we  had  galloped  a  mile  or  more  a 
large  rabbit,  by  ill  luck,  sprang  up  just  under  the 
feet  of  the  mule,  who  bounded  violently  aside  in  full 
career.  Weakened  as  1  was  1  was  flung  forcibly  to 
the  ground,  and  my  rifle  falling  close  to  my  head, 
went  off  with  the  shock.  Its  sharp,  spiteful  report 
rang  for  some  moments  in  my  ear.  Being  slightl)'* 
stunned,  1  lay  for  an  instant  motionless,  and  Reynal, 
supposing  me  to  be  shot,  rode  up  and  began  to  curse 
the  mule.  Soon  recovering  myself,  1  arose,  picked 
up  the  rifle,  and  anxiously  examined  it.  It  was 
badly  injured.  The  stock  was  cracked  and  the  main 
screw  broken,  so  that  the  lock  had  to  be  tied  in  its 
place  with  a  string  ;  yet,  happily,  it  was  not  rendered 
totally  unserviceable.  I  wiped  it  out,  reloaded  it, 
and  handing  it  to  Reynal,  who  meanwhile  had 
caught  the  mule  and  led  her  up  to  me,  I  mounted 
again.     No  sooner  had   I   done  so,  than  the  brute 


A   MOUNTAIN  HUNT.  28 1 

began  to  rear  and  plunge  with  extreme  violence  ; 
but  being  now  well  prepared  for  her,  and  free  from 
incumbrance,  I  soon  reduced  her  to  submission. 
Then  taking  the  rifle  again  from  Reynal,  we  galloped 
forward  as  before. 

We  were  now  free  of  the  mountains  and  riding 
far  out  on  the  broad  prairie.  The  buffalo  were  still 
some  two  miles  in  advance  of  us.  When  we  came 
near  them  we  stopped  where  a  gentle  swell  of  the 
plain  concealed  us  from  their  view,  and  while  1  held 
his  horse  Reynal  ran  forward  with  his  rifle,  till  I 
lost  sight  of  him  beyond  the  rising  ground.  A  few 
minutes  elapsed  :  I  heard  the  report  of  his  piece, 
and  saw  the  buffalo  running  away  at  full  speed  on 
the  right,  and  immediately  after,  the  hunter  him- 
self, unsuccessful  as  before,  came  up  and  mounted 
his  horse  in  excessive  ill  humor.  He  cursed  the 
Black  Hills  and  the  buffalo,  swore  that  he  was  a 
good  hunter,  which,  indeed,  was  true,  and  that  he 
had  never  been  out  before  among  those  mountains 
without  killing  two  or  three  deer  at  least. 

We  now  turned  toward  the  distant  encampment. 
As  we  rode  along,  antelope  in  considerable  numbers 
were  flying  lightly  in  all  directions  over  the  plain, 
but  not  one  of  them  would  stand  and  be  shot  at. 
When  we  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain-ridge 
that  lay  between  us  and  the  village,  we  were  too 
impatient  to  take  the  smooth  and  circuitous  route  ; 
so  turning  short  to  the  left,  we  drove  our  wearied 
animals  directly  upward  among  the  rocks.  Still 
more  antelope  were  leaping  about  among  these 
flinty  hill-sides.  Each  of  us  shot  at  one,  though 
from  a  great  distance,  and  each  missed  his  mark. 
At  length  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  last  ridge. 
Looking  down,  we  saw  the  bustling  camp  in  the 
valley  at  our  feet,  and  ingloriously  descended  to  it. 
As  we  rode  among  the  lodges,  the  Indians  looked 


282  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

in  vain  fin*  the  fresh  meat  that  ditxdd  have  hm^ 
bdiind  our  saddles,  and  the  squaws  nttoed  Tarious 
suppressed  qacniaticms.  to  the  gieat  indignadon  of 
ReynaL  Our  moitification  was  increased  whoi  we 
rode  up  to  his  loc^e.  Hoe  we  saw  his  yom^  In- 
dian relative,  die  Hail-SticHm.  his  li^^  giacefid 
figure  reclining  <m  the  ground  in  an  easy  attitude, 
while  with  his  friend,  the  Rabbit,  who  sat  by  his 
side,  he  was  making  an  abundant  meal  from  a 
wooden  bowl  of  fieusmf,  which  the  squaw  had  placed 
between  them.  Near  him  lay  the  fre^  din  fA  a 
female  dDk,  mhich  he  had  just  killed  amfn^  the 
mountains,  only  a  mile  or  two  from  the  camp.  No 
doubt  the  boy's  heart  was  dbled  with  triumph,  but 
he  betrayed  no  sign  of  iL  He  even  seemed  totally 
unconscioos  of  our  approach,  and  his  handsome 
bat  had  all  die  tianqmOity  of  IndBan  sdf-contnd  ; 
a  self-coatrol  which  pievoits  the  exhibition  of  emo- 
tion widiont  restraining  die  emotion  itsd£  It  was 
about  two  months  since  I  had  known  the  Hail- 
Storm,  and  within  that  time  his  character  had 
remarkably  developed.  When  I  fiist  saw  him  he 
was  just  emagii^  froan  the  halnts  and  Ibdii^s  of 
the  boy  into  the  amlntian  of  die  hunter  and  warrior. 
He  had  latdy  killed  his  fiist  deer,  and  this  had 
excited  his  aspirations  after  distinction.  Snce  that 
time  he  had  beoi  continually  in  search  i£  game, 
and  no  yom^  hunter  in  the  village  had  been  so 
acdve  <h-  so  fntunate  as  he.  It  will  pohaps  be 
remembered  how  fieariessly  he  attacked  die  bu&lo- 
boll  as  we  were  movii^  toward  our  camp  at  die 
Medicine-Bow  Mountain.  AH  this  success  had  pro- 
duced a  maAfitl  change  in  his  character.  As  I 
fiist  remonbexed  him  he  always  shunned  the  society 
of  the  yom^  squaws,  and  was  extremeiy  ba.'shfiil 
and  sheepish  in  their  presence :  but  now.  in  the 
confidence  of  his  own  repntali<m.  he  began  to  as- 


A   MOUNTAIN  HUNT.  283 

sume  the  airs  and  the  arts  of  a  man  of  gallantry. 
He  wore  his  red  blanket  dashingly  over  his  left 
shoulder,  painted  his  cheeks  ever)'  day  with  ver- 
milion, and  hung  pendants  of  shells  in  his  ears.  If 
I  observed  aright,  he  met  with  very  good  success  in 
his  new  pursuits  ;  still  the  t^il-Storm  had  much  to 
accomplish  before  he  attained  tHe  full  standing  of  a 
warrior.  Gallantly  as  he  began  to  bear  himself 
among  the  women  and  girls,  he  still  was  timid  and 
abashed  in  the  presence  of  the  chiefs  and  old  men  ; 
for  he  had  never  yet  killed  a  man  or  stricken  the 
dead  body  of  an  enemy  in  battle.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  handsome  smooth-faced  boy  burned  with 
a  keen  desire  to  flesh  his  maiden  scalping-knife, 
and  I  would  not  have  encamped  alone  with  him 
without  watching  his  movements  with  a  distrustful 
eye. 

His  elder  brother,  the  Horse,  was  of  a  different 
character.  He  was  nothing  but  a  lazy  dandy.  He 
knew  very  well  how  to  hunt,  but  preferred  to  live 
by  the  hunting  of  others.  He  had  no  appetite  for 
distinction,  and  the  Hail-Storm,  though  a  few  years 
younger  than  he,  already  surpassed  him  in  reputa- 
tion. He  had  a  dark  and  ugly  face,  and  he  passed 
a  great  part  of  his  time  in  adorning  it  with  ver- 
milion, and  contemplating  it  by  means  of  a  little 
pocket  looking-glass  which  I  gave  him.  As  for  the 
rest  of  the  day,  he  divided  it  between  eating  and 
sleeping,  and  sitting  in  the  sun  on  the  outside  of  a 
lodge.  Here  he  would  remain  for  hour  after  hour, 
arrayed  in  all  his  finer\-,  with  an  old  dragoon's 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  evidently  flattering  himself 
that  he  was  the  centre  of  attraction  to  the  eyes  of 
the  surrounding  squaws.  Yet  he  sat  looking  straight 
for\vard  with  a  face  of  the  utmost  gravity,  as  if 
wrapped  in  profound  meditation,  and  it  was  only  by 
the  occasional  sidelong  glances  which  he  shot  at  his 


284  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

supposed  admirers  that  one  could  detect  the  true 
course  of  his  thoughts. 

Both  he  and  his  brother  may  represent  a  class  in 
the  Indian  community  ;  neither  should  thf  Hail- 
Storm's  friend,  the  Rabbit,  be  passed  by  without 
notice.  The  Hail-Storm  and  he  were  inseparable  ; 
they  ate,  slept,  and  hunted  together,  and  shared  with 
one  another  almost  all  that  they  possessed.  If  there 
be  anything  that  deserves  to  be  called  romantic  in 
the  Indian  character,  it  is  to  be  sought  for  in  friend- 
ships such  as  this,  which  are  quite  common  among 
many  of  the  prairie-tribes. 

Slowly,  hour  after  hour,  that  weary  afternoon 
dragged  away.  I  lay  in  Reynal's  lodge,  overcome 
by  the  listless  torpor  that  pervaded  the  whole  en- 
campment. The  day's  work  was  finished,  or  if  it 
were  not,  the  inhabitants  had  resolved  not  to  finish 
it  at  all,  and  all  were  dozing  quietly  within  the  shel- 
ter of  the  lodges.  A  profound  lethargy,  the  very- 
spirit  of  indolence,  seemed  to  have  sunk  upon  the 
village.  Now  and  then  I  could  hear  the  low  laugh- 
ter of  some  girl  from  within  a  neighboring  lodge,  or 
the  small  shrill  voices  of  a  few  restless  children, 
who  alone  were  moving  in  the  deserted  area.  The 
spirit  of  the  place  infected  me  ;  I  could  not  even 
think  consecutively  ;  I  was  fit  only  for  musing 
and  reverie,  when  at  last,  like  the  rest,  1  fell 
asleep. 

When  evening  came,  and  the  fires  were  lighted 
round  the  lodges,  a  select  family  circle  convened  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Reynal's  domicile.  It  was  com- 
posed entirely  of  his  squaw's  relatives,  a  mean  and 
ignoble  clan,  among  whom  none  but  the  Hail-Storm 
held  forth  any  promise  of  future  distinction.  Even 
his  prospects  were  rendered  not  a  little  dubious  by 
the  character  of  the  family,  less,  however,  from  any 
principle  of  aristocratic  distinction  than   from  the 


A   MOUNTAIN  HUNT.  285 

want  of  powerful  supporters  to  assist  him  in  his 
undertakings,  and  help  to  avenge  his  quarrels. 
Raymond  and  I  sat  down  along  with  them.  There 
were  eight  or  ten  men  gathered  around  the  fire,  to- 
gether with  about  as  many  women,  old  and  young, 
some  of  whom  were  tolerably  good-looking.  As  the 
pipe  passed  around  among  the  men  a  lively  conver- 
sation went  forward,  more  merry  than  delicate,  and 
at  length  two  or  three  of  the  elder  women  (for  the 
girls  were  somewhat  diffident  and  bashful)  began  to 
assail  Raymond  with  various  pungent  witticisms. 
Some  of  the  men  took  part,  and  an  old  squaw  con- 
cluded by  bestowing  on  him  a  ludicrous  nickname, 
at  which  a  general  laugh  followed  at  his  e.xpense. 
Raymond  grinned  and  giggled,  and  made  several 
futile  attempts  at  repartee.  Knowing  the  impolicy 
and  even  danger  of  suffering  myself  to  be  placed 
in  a  ludicrous  light  among  the  Indians,  1  maintained 
a  rigid  inflexible  countenance,  and  wholly  escaped 
their  sallies. 

In  the  morning  1  found,  to  my  great  disgust,  that 
the  camp  was  to  retain  its  position  for  another  day. 
I  dreaded  its  languor  and  monotony,  and  to  escape 
it  1  set  out  to  explore  the  surrounding  mountains. 
I  was  accompanied  by  a  faithful  friend,  my  rifle, 
the  only  friend,  indeed,  on  whose  prompt  assistance 
in  time  of  trouble  I  could  implicitly  rely.  Most  of 
the  Indians  in  the  village,  it  is  true,  professed  good 
will  toward  the  whites,  but  the  experience  of  others 
and  my  own  observation  had  taught  me  the  extreme 
folly  of  confidence,  and  the  utter  impossibility  of 
foreseeing  to  what  sudden  acts  the  strange  unbridled 
impulses  of  an  Indian  may  urge  him.  When  among 
this  people  danger  is  never  so  near  as  when  you  are 
unprepared  for  it,  never  so  remote  as  when  you  are 
armed  and  on  the  alert  to  meet  it  at  any  moment. 
Nothing  offers  so  strong  a  temptation  to  their  fero- 


286  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

cious  instincts  as  the  appearance  of  timidity,  weak- 
ness, or  insecurity. 

Many  deep  and  gloomy  gorges,  choked  with  trees 
and  bushes,  opened  from  the  sides  of  the  hills, 
which  were  shaggy  with  forests  wherever  the  rocks 
permitted  vegetation  to  spring.  A  great  number  of 
Indians  were  stalking  along  the  edges  of  the  woods, 
and  boys  were  whooping  and  laughing  on  the  moun- 
tain-sides, practising  eye  and  hand,  and  indulging 
their  destructive  propensities  by  following  birds  and 
small  animals  and  killing  them  with  their  little 
bows  and  arrows.  There  was  one  glen  stretching 
up  between  steep  cliffs  far  into  the  bosom  of  the 
mountain.  I  began  to  ascend  along  its  bottom, 
pushing  my  way  onward  among  the  rocks,  trees, 
and  bushes  that  obstructed  it.  A  slender  thread  of 
water  trickled  along  its  centre,  which  since  issuing 
from  the  heart  of  its  native  rock  could  scarcely  have 
been  warmed  or  gladdened  by  a  ray  of  sunshine. 
After  advancing  for  some  time,  I  conceived  myself 
to  be  entirely  alone  ;  but  coming  to  a  part  of  the 
glen  in  a  great  measure  free  of  trees  and  under- 
growth, I  saw  at  some  distance  the  black  head  and 
red  shoulders  of  an  Indian  among  the  bushes  above. 
The  reader  need  not  prepare  himself  for  a  startling 
adventure,  for  1  have  none  to  relate.  The  head 
and  shoulders  belonged  to  Mene-Seela,  my  best 
friend  in  the  village.  As  I  had  approached  noiselessly 
with  my  moccasoned  feet,  the  old  man  was  quite 
unconscious  of  my  presence  ;  and  turning  to  a  point 
where  I  could  gain  an  unobstructed  view  of  him,  1  saw 
him  seated  alone,  immovable  as  a  statue,  among 
the  rocks  and  trees.  His  face  was  turned  upward, 
and  his  eyes  seemed  riveted  on  a  pine  tree  springing 
from  a  cleft  in  the  precipice  above.  The  crest  of 
the  pine  was  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  wind,  and  its 
long  limbs  waved  slowly  up  and  down,  as  if  the  tree 


A   MOUNTAIN  HUNT.  287 

had  life.  Looking  for  a  while  at  the  old  man,  I  was 
satisfied  that  he  was  engaged  in  an  act  of  worship, 
or  prayer,  or  communion  of  some  kind  with  a  super- 
natural being.  I  longed  to  penetrate  his  thoughts, 
but  I  could  do  nothing  more  than  conjecture  and 
speculate.  I  knew  that  though  the  intellect  of  an 
Indian  can  embrace  the  idea  of  an  all-wise,  all- 
powerful  Spirit,  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe, 
yet  his  mind  will  not  always  ascend  into  communion 
with  a  being  that  seems  to  him  so  vast,  remote,  and 
incomprehensible  ;  and  when  danger  threatens,  when 
his  hopes  are  broken,  when  the  black  wing  of  sorrow 
overshadows  him,  he  is  prone  to  turn  for  relief  to 
some  inferior  agency,  less  removed  from  the  ordi- 
nary scope  of  his  faculties.  He  has  a  guardian 
spirit,  on  whom  he  relies  for  succor  and  guidance. 
To  him  all  nature  is  instinct  with  mystic  influence. 
Among  those  mountains  not  a  wild  beast  was  prowl- 
ing, a  bird  singing,  or  a  leaf  fluttering,  that  might 
not  tend  to  direct  his  destiny  or  give  warning  of 
what  was  in  store  for  him  ;  and  he  watches  the  world 
of  nature  around  him  as  the  astrologer  watches  the 
stars.  So  closely  is  he  linked  with  it  that  his  guar- 
dian spirit,  no  unsubstantial  creation  of  the  fancy, 
is  usually  embodied  in  the  form  of  some  living  thing  : 
a  bear,  a  wolf,  an  eagle,  or  a  serpent  ;  and  Mene- 
Seela,  as  he  gazed  intently  on  the  old  pine  tree, 
might  believe  it  to  inshrine  the  fancied  guide  and 
protector  of  his  life. 

Whatever  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  old  man, 
it  was  no  part  of  sense  or  of  delicacy  to  disturb  him. 
Silently  retracing  my  footsteps,  I  descended  the  glen 
until  I  came  to  a  point  where  1  could  climb  the  steep 
precipices  that  shut  it  in,  and  gain  the  side  of  the 
mountain.  Looking  up,  I  saw  a  tall  peak  rising 
among  the  woods.  Something  impelled  me  to  chmb  ; 
I   had  not  felt  for  many  a  day  such  strength  and 


288  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

elasticity  of  limb.  An  hour  and  a  half  of  slow  and 
often  intermitted  labor  brought  me  to  the  very 
summit  ;  and  emerging  from  the  dark  shadows  of 
the  rocks  and  pines,  I  stepped  forth  into  the  light, 
and  walking  along  the  sunny  verge  of  a  precipice, 
seated  myself  on  its  extreme  point.  Looking  be- 
tween the  mountain-peaks  to  the  westward,  the  pale 
blue  prairie  was  stretching  to  the  farthest  horizon, 
like  a  serene  and  tranquil  ocean.  The  surrounding 
mountains  were  in  themselves  sufficiently  striking 
and  impressive,  but  this  contrast  gave  redoubled 
effect  to  their  stem  features. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

PASSAGE    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS. 

"  Dear  Nature  is  the  kindest  mother  still, 
Though  always  changing,  in  her  aspect  mild; 
From  her  bare  bosom  let  me  take  my  fill, 
Her  never-weaned,  though  not  her  favored  child. 
O,  she  is  fairest  in  her  features  wild. 
When  nothing  polished  dares  pollute  her  path  ; 
On  me  by  day  and  night  she  ever  smiled. 
Though  I  have  marked  her  where  none  other  hath, 

And  sought  her   more    and  more,  and  loved   her  best  in 
wrath." — Childe  Harold. 

When  I  took  leave  of  Shaw  at  La  Bonte's  camp 
I  promised  that  I  would  meet  him  at  Fort  Laramie 
on  the  first  of  August.  That  day,  according  to  my 
reckoning,  was  now  close  at  hand.  It  was  impos- 
sible, at  best,  to  fulfil  my  engagement  exactly,  and 
my  meeting  with  him  must  have  been  postponed 
until  many  days  after  the  appointed  time  had  not 
the  plans  of  the  Indians  ven,'  well  coincided  with 
my  own.     They,  too,  intended  to  pass  the  moun- 


PASSAGE    OF  THE   MOUNTAINS.       289 

tains  and  move  toward  the  fort.  To  do  so  at  this 
point  was  impossible,  because  there  was  no  opening  ; 
and  in  order  to  find  a  passage  we  were  obliged  to  go 
twelve  or  fourteen  miles  southward.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  the  camp  got  in  motion,  defiHng  back 
through  the  mountains  along  the  same  narrow  pas- 
sage by  which  they  had  entered.  I  rode  in  company 
with  three  or  four  young  Indians  at  the  rear,  and 
the  moving  swarm  stretched  before  me,  in  the  ruddy 
light  of  sunset,  or  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  moun- 
tains, far  beyond  my  sight.  It  was  an  ill-omened 
spot  they  chose  to  encamp  upon.  When  they  were 
there  just  a  year  before,  a  war-part}-  of  ten  men, 
led  by  the  Whirlwind's  son,  had  gone  out  against 
the  enemy,  and  not  one  had  ever  returned.  This 
was  the  immediate  cause  of  this  season's  warlike 
preparations.  I  was  not  a  little  astonished  when  I 
came  to  the  camp  at  the  confusion  of  horrible  sounds 
with  which  it  was  filled  ;  howls,  shrieks,  and  wail- 
ings  were  heard  from  all  the  women  present,  many 
of  whom,  not  content  with  this  exhibition  of  grief 
for  the  loss  of  their  friends  and  relatives,  were  gash- 
ing their  legs  deeply  with  knives.  A  warrior  in  the 
village,  who  had  lost  a  brother  in  the  expedition, 
chose  another  mode  of  displaying  his  sorrow^ 
The  Indians,  who  though  often  rapacious,  are  utterly 
devoid  of  avarice,  are  accustomed  in  times  of  mourn- 
ing, or  on  other  solemn  occasions,  to  give  away  the 
whole  of  their  possessions,  and  reduce  themselves 
to  nakedness  and  want.  The  warrior  in  question 
led  his  two  best  horses  into  the  centre  of  the  village 
and  gave  them  away  to  his  friends  ;  upon  which, 
songs  and  acclamations  in  praise  of  his  generosity 
mingled  with  the  cries  of  the  women. 

On  the  next  morning  we  entered  once  more  among 
the  mountains.  There^ waF nothing  Tn  their  appear- 
ance either  grand  or  picturesque,  though  they  were 

19 


air.  and  my  un- 
•  1  ver  her  ears. 


290  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

desclatr  ::  :.- r  1;:  legree,  being^  xaexc  piles  of 
Uack  \  r  :  •  t  r  r  :  ;  -^etiioat  trees  or  T^etation 
afar.     - .- :  among  them  along  a 

wide     1  -r  ..ond  riding  by  the  side 

frf  a  r .     f-:jiiaw.    to   whom   he  was  addiesang 

vari-::;  r  -  jatriig  compUments.  All  the  old 
sqna  rhborhood  watched  his  proceed- 

ings .:    .  ^tion,  aad  fhegiil  heisdf  would 

tmB  3;  :;r  ':.-:  vr  1  -d  la^ih.  Jnst  dien  the  old 
mide  ■--  t  display  her  vicious  pranks ; 

she":  ^    ^r  1  :  !:-_e  most  farioasly.     Ray- 

mor  _  —  t  -  ■  r  ^  r  r    and  at  first  he  sbjck 

&st  .r    -  r     :    t-jt  after   I    saw  the 

mule 

\xxc\-.     :'    _  _       _         .     : 

Ther-       _     .  -  _  hter  fexjin  all 

thev,::rtr.    :n      /..:;.  _.  ■::kpart, 

a-d    }i;  — :r. ::       ;—  such    a 

;h       er    :'        :       :::;    :/ i:    /t    -  :.;    j.il   :.   rrde  for- 

-     -■    -    "It  -ea-  hjin,  I  heard  him 

T       -  '     --  r  ,-  :c-»rard  a  detached 

r     •  —      :  r  of  the  valley 

':    :     :  -     -e  of  elk  came 

/    -  :he  side 
-    T  vrricared 

nfh- 
I'rcm 
:'-robes, 

£-.  -  r:i-   1-  -'.:.'.    -  tt  :   :         -  _  ;/  -  ;      t  nearest 

rr    :r:i  -        ?  broke  aviay  az  a  gallop  in 

t-.r    rir:.t    :  -  ^ome  on!    come  on!"   he 

called  to  us.  "  Do  jo»u  see  that  band  of  big-horn 
up  yonder?  If  there's  one  erf  them,  there's  a 
hundred  !" 

In  iaxX,  near  the  summit  c/l  die  mountain,  I  could 
see  a  laige  Buraber  of  sraaE  wlute  ot^ects-,  moving 


PASSAGE    OF  THE  MOUNTAINS.      29 1 

rapidly  upward  among  the  precipices,  while  others 
were  filing  along  its  rocky  profile.  Anxious  to  see 
the  sport,  I  galloped  for^vard,  and  entering  a  pas- 
sage in  the  side  of  the  mountain,  ascended  among 
the  loose  rocks  as  far  as  my  horse  could  carr)'  me. 
Here  I  fastened  her  to  an  old  pine  tree  that  stood 
alone,  scorching  in  the  sun.  At  that  moment  Ray- 
mond called  to  me  from  the  right  that  another  band 
of  sheep  was  close  at  hand  in  that  direction.  I  ran 
up  to  the  top  of  the  opening,  which  gave  me  a  full 
view  into  the  rocky  gorge  beyond  ;  and  here  I 
plainly  saw  some  fifty  or  sixty  sheep,  almost  within 
rifle-shot,  clattering  upward  among  the  rocks,  and 
endeavoring,  after  their  usual  custom,  to  reach  the 
highest  point.  The  naked  Indians  bounded  up 
lightly  in  pursuit.  In  a  moment  the  game  and 
hunters  disappeared.  Nothing  could  be  seen  or 
heard  but  the  occasional  report  of  a  gun,  more  and 
more  distant,  reverberating  among  the  rocks. 

I  turned  to  descend,  and  as  I  did  so  I  could  see 
the  valley  below  alive  with  Indians  passing  rapidly 
through  it,  on  horseback  and  on  foot.  A  little  far- 
ther on,  all  were  stopping  as  they  came  up  ;  the 
camp  was  preparing,  and  the  lodges  rising.  I  de- 
scended to  this  spot,  and  soon  after  Reynal  and 
Raymond  returned.  They  bore  between  them  a 
sheep  which  they  had  pelted  to  death  with  stones 
from  the  edge  of  a  ravine,  along  the  bottom  of 
which  it  was  attempting  to  escape.  One  by  one  the 
hunters  came  dropping  in  ;  yet  such  is  the  activity 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  sheep,  that  although  sixty 
or  seventy  men  were  out  in  pursuit,  not  more  than 
half  a  dozen  animals  were  killed.  Of  these  only 
one  was  a  full  grown  male.  He  had  a  pair  of  horns 
twisted  like  a  ram's,  the  dimensions  of  which  were 
almost  beyond  belief.  I  have  seen  among  the 
Indians   ladles  with  long  handles,  capable  of  con- 


292  THE   OREGON  TRAIL, 

taining  more  than  a  quart,  cut  out  from  such 
horns. 

There  is  something  peculiarly  interesting  in  the 
character  and  habits  of  the  mountain-sheep,  whose 
chosen  retreats  are  above  the  region  of  vegetation 
and  of  storms,  and  who  leap  among  the  giddy 
precipices  of  their  aerial  home  as  actively  as  the  an- 
telope skims  over  the  prairies  below. 

Through  the  whole  of  the  next  morning  we  were 
moving  forward  among  the  hills.  On  the  follo-w-ing 
day  the  heights  gathered  around  us,  and  the  passage 
of  the  mountains  began  in  earnest.  Before  the  vil- 
lage left  its  camping-ground,  1  set  forward  in  com- 
pany \^-ith  the  Eagle-Feather,  a  man  of  pow^erful 
frame,  but  of  bad  and  sinister  face.  His  son,  a 
light-limbed  boy,  rode  with  us,  and  another  Indian, 
named  the  Panther,  was  also  of  the  party.  Leav- 
ing the  village  out  of  sight  behind  us.  we  rode  to- 
gether up  a  rocky  defile.  After  a  while,  however, 
the  Eagle-Feather  discovered  in  the  distance  some 
appearance  of  game,  and  set  off  with  his  son  in 
pursuit  of  it,  while  I  went  forward  with  the  Panther. 
This  was  a  mere  nam  dc  gurrre  ;  for,  like  many  In- 
dians, he  concealed  his  real  name  out  of  some 
superstitious  notion.  He  was  a  ven-  noble  looking 
fellow.  As  he  suffered  his  ornamented  buffalo-robe 
to  fall  in  folds  about  his  loins,  his  stately  and  grace- 
ful figure  was  fully  displayed  ;  and  while  he  sat  his 
horse  in  an  easy  attitude,  the  long  feathers  of  the 
prairie-cock  fluttering  from  the  crown  of  his  head, 
he  seemed  the  very  model  of  a  wild  prairie-rider. 
He  had  not  the  same  features  with  those  of  other 
Indians.  Unless  his  handsome  face  greatly  behed 
him,  he  was  free  from  the  jealousy,  suspicion,  and 
malignant  cunning  of  his  people.  For  the  most 
part,  a  civihzed  white  man  can  discover  but  verv^ 
few  points  of  sympathy  between  his  own  nature  and 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUXTAIXS.      293 

that  of  an  Indian.  With  ever>-  disposition  to  do 
justice  to  their  good  qualities,  he  must  be  conscious 
that  an  impassable  gulf  lies  between  him  and  his 
red  brethren  of  the  prairie.  Nay,  so  alien  to  him- 
self do  they  appear,  that  having  breathed  for  a  few 
months  or  a  few  weeks  the  air  of  this  region,  he 
begins  to  look  upon  them  as  a  troublesome  and  dan- 
gerous species  of  wild  beast,  and  if  expedient,  he 
could  shoot  them  with  as  little  compunction  as  they 
themselves  would  e.xperience  after  performing  the 
same  office  upon  him.  Yet,  in  the  countenance  of 
the  Panther,  'I  gladly  read  that  there  were  at  least 
some  points  of  sympathy  between  him  and  me. 
We  were  excellent  friends,  and  as  we  rode  forward 
together  through  rocky  passages,  deep  dells,  and 
little  barren  plains,  he  occupied  himself  very  zeal- 
ously in  teaching  me  the  Dahcotah  language.  After 
a  while  we  came  to  a  little  grassy  recess,  where  some 
gooseberry- -bushes  were  growing  at  the  foot  of  a 
rock  :  and  these  offered  such  temptation  to  my  com- 
panion, that  he  gave  over  his  instruction,  and 
stopped  so  long  to  gather  the  fruit  that  before  we 
were  in  motion  again  the  van  of  the  village  came  in 
view.  An  old  woman  appeared,  leading  down  her 
pack-horse  among  the  rocks  above.  Savage  after 
savage  followed,  and  the  little  dell  was  soon  crowded 
with  the  throng. 

That  morning's  march  was  one  not  easily  to  be 
forgotten.  It  led  us  through  a  sublime  waste,  a 
wilderness  of  mountains  and  pine  forests,  over 
which  the  spirit  of  loneliness  and  silence  seemed 
brooding.  Above  and  below  little  could  be  seen 
but  the  same  dark  green  foliage.  It  overspread  the 
valleys,  and  the  mountains  were  clothed  with  it, 
from  the  black  rocks  that  crowned  their  summits  to 
the  impetuous  streams  that  circled  round  their  base. 
Scenerv  like  this,    it  might   seem,   could  have  no 


294  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

very  cheering  effect  on  the  mind  of  a  sick  man  (fof 
to-day  my  disease  had  again  assailed  me)  in  the 
midst  of  a  horde  of  savages  ;  but  if  the  reader  has 
ever  wandered,  with  a  true  hunter's  spirit,  among 
the  forests  of  Maine,  or  the  more  picturesque  soli- 
tudes of  the  Adirondack  Mountains,  he  will  under- 
stand how  the  sombre  woods  and  mountains  around 
me  might  have  awakened  any  other  feelings  than 
those  of  gloom.  In  truth,  they  recalled  gladdening 
recollections  of  similar  scenes  in  a  distant  and  far 
different  land. 

After  we  had  been  advancing  for  several  hours, 
through  passages  always  narrow,  often  obstructed 
and  difficult,  I  saw  at  a  Uttle  distance  on  our  right 
a  narrow  opening  between  two  high,  wooded  prec- 
ipices. All  within  seemed  darkness  and  mystery. 
In  the  mood  in  which  I  found  myself,  som^hing 
strongly  impelled  me  to  enter.  Passing  over  the 
inten-ening  space,  I  guided  my  horse  through  the 
rock>'  porl^,  and  as  1  did  so,  instinctively  drew  the 
covering  from  my  rifle,  half  expecting  that  some 
unknown  eiil  lay  in  ambush  nithin  those  dreary 
recesses.  The  place  was  shut  in  among  tall  cUffs. 
and  so  deeply  shadowed  by  a  host  of  old  pine  trees, 
that  though  the  sun  shone  bright  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  nothing  but  a  dim  twilight  could  penetrate 
within.  .As  far  as  1  could  see  it  had  no  tenants 
except  a  few  hawks  and  owls,  who,  dismayed  at 
my  intrusion,  flapped  hoarsely  away  among  the 
shaggy-  branches.  1  moved  forward,  determined  to 
explore  the  mystery  to  the  bottom,  and  soon  became 
involved  among  the  pines.  The  genius  of  the  place 
exercised  a  strange  influence  upon  my  mind.  Its 
Acuities  were  stimulated  into  extraordinary  activity', 
and  as  I  passed  along  many  half-forgotten  inci- 
dents, and  the  images  of  persons  and  things  £ir  dis- 
tant, rose  rapidly  before  me  nith  surprising  dis- 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOL'XTAIXS.      295 

tinctness.  In  that  perilous  wilderness,  eight  hundred 
miles  removed  beyond  the  faintest  vestige  of  civiliza- 
tion, the  scenes  of  another  hemisphere,  the  seat  of 
ancient  retinement  passed  before  me,  more  hke  a 
succession  of  vivid  paintings  than  any  mere  dreams 
of  the  fancv.  I  saw  the  church  of  St.  Peter"  s  illumined 
on  the  evening  of  Easter-day,  the  whole  majestic  pile 
from  the  cross  to  the  foundation-stone,  pencilled  in 
fire,  and  shedding  a  radiance,  like  the  serene  light 
of  the  moon,  on  the  sea  of  upturned  faces  below.  I 
saw  the  peak  of  Mount  Etna  towering  above  its 
inky  mantle  of  clouds,  and  lightly  curling  its 
wreaths  of  milk-white  smoke  against  the  soft  sky. 
flushed  with  the  Sicilian  sunset.  I  saw  also  the 
gloomy  vaulted  passages  and  the  narrow  cells  of 
the  Passionist  convent,  where  I  once  had  sojourned 
for  a  few  days  with  the  fanatical  monks,  its  pale 
stem  inmates,  in  their  robes  of  black  ;  and  the 
grated  windows  from  whence  I  could  look  out,  a  for- 
bidden indulgence,  upon  the  melancholy  CoUseum 
and  the  crumbling  ruins  of  the  Eternal  Cit\-.  The 
mightv  glaciers  of  the  Splugen,  too,  rose  before  me, 
gleaming  in  the  sun  like  pohshed  silver,  and  those 
terrible  solitudes,  the  birth-place  of  the  Rhine,  where, 
bursting  from  the  bowels  of  its  native  mountain,  it 
lashes  and  foams  down  the  rocky  abyss  into  the 
little  valley  of  Andeer.  These  recollections,  and 
many  more  crowded  upon  me.  until,  remembering 
that  it  was  hardly  wise  to  remain  long  in  such  a 
place.  I  mounted  again  and  retraced  my  steps. 
Issuing  from  bet^veen  the  rocks.  I  saw,  a  few  rods 
before  me,  the  men,  women  and  children,  dogs  and 
horses,  still  filing  slowly  across  the  little  glen.  A 
bare  round  hill  rose  directly  above  them.  I  rode  to 
the  top.  and  from  this  point  I  could  look  down  on 
the  savage  procession  as  it  passed  just  beneath  my 
feet,  and  far  on  the  left  I  could  see  its  thin  and 


296  THE    ORE  G  OX  TRAIL. 

broken  line,  \isible  only  at  intervals,  stretching 
away  for  miles  among  the  mountains.  On  the 
farthest  ridge  horsemen  were  still  descending,  like 
mere  specks  in  the  distance. 

I  remained  on  the  hill  until  all  had  passed,  and 
then,  descending,  followed  after  them.  A  little 
farther  on  1  found  a  \er\  small  meadow,  set  deeply 
among  steep  mountains  ;  and  here  the  whole  \  illage 
had  encamped.  The  little  spot  was  crowded  with 
the  confused  and  disorderly  host.  Some  of  the 
lodges  were  already  completely  prepared,  or  the 
squaws  perhaps  were  busy  in  drawing  the  heavy 
coverings  of  skin  over  the  bare  poles.  Others  were 
as  yet  mere  skeletons,  while  others  still,  poles, 
covering,  and  all,  lay  scattered  in  complete  disorder 
on  the  ground  among  buffalo-robes,  bales  of  meat, 
domestic  utensils,  harness,  and  weapons.  Squaws 
were  screaming  to  one  another,  horses  rearing  and 
plunging,  dogs  yelping,  eager  to  be  disburdened  of 
their  loads,  while  the  fluttering  of  feathers  and  the 
gleam  of  barbaric  ornaments  added  livehness  to  the 
scene.  The  small  children  ran  about  amid  the 
crowd,  while  many  of  the  boys  were  scrambling 
among  the  overhanging  rocks,  and  standing,  with 
their  little  bows  in  their  hands,  looking  down  upon 
the  restless  throng.  In  contrast  with  the  general 
confusion,  a  circle  of  old  men  and  warriors  sat  in 
the  midst,  smoking  in  profound  indifference  and 
tranquillity.  The  disorder  at  length  subsided.  The 
horses  were  driven  away  to  feed  along  the  adjacent 
valley,  and  the  camp  assumed  an  air  of  listless 
repose.  It  was  scarcely  past  noon  ;  a  vast  white 
canopy  of  smoke  from  a  burning  forest  to  the  east- 
ward overhung  the  place,  and  partially  obscured 
the  rays  of  the  sun  ;  yet  the  heat  was  almost  in- 
supportable. The  lodges  stood  crowded  together 
without  order  in  the  narrow  space.      Each  was  a 


PASSAGE    OF   THE  MOUNTAINS.      297 

perfect  hot-house,  within  which  the  lazy  proprietor 
lay  sleeping.  The  camp  was  silent  as  death. 
Nothing  stirred  except  now  and  then  an  old  woman 
passing  from  lodge  to  lodge.  The  girls  and  young 
men  sat  together  in  groups,  under  the  pine  trees 
upon  the  surrounding  heights.  The  dogs  lay  pant- 
ing on  the  ground,  too  lazy  even  to  growl  at  the 
white  man.  At  the  entrance  of  the  meadow  there 
was  a  cold  spring  among  the  rocks,  completely 
overshadowed  by  tall  trees  and  dense  undergrowth. 
In  this  cool  and  shady  retreat  a  number  of  the  girls 
were  assembled,  sitting  together  on  rocks  and  fallen 
logs,  discussing  the  latest  gossip  of  the  village,  or 
laughing  and  throwing  water  with  their  hands  at  the 
intruding  Meneaska.  The  minutes  seemed  length- 
ened into  hours.  I  lay  for  a  long  time  under  a  tree, 
studying  the  Ogillallah  tongue,  with  the  zealous  in- 
structions of  my  friend  the  Panther.  When  we 
were  both  tired  of  this,  I  went  and  lay  down  by  the 
side  of  a  deep,  clear  pool,  formed  by  the  water  of 
the  spring.  A  shoal  of  little  fishes  of  about  a  pin's 
length  were  playing  in  it,  sporting  together,  as  it 
seemed,  very  amicably  ;  but  on  closer  observation, 
I  saw  that  they  were  engaged  in  a  cannibal  warfare 
among  themselves.  Now  and  then  a  small  one 
would  fall  a  victim,  and  immediately  disappear 
down  the  maw  of  his  voracious  conqueror.  Every 
moment,  however,  the  tyrant  of  the  pool,  a  mon- 
ster about  three  inches  long,  with  staring  goggle- 
eyes,  would  slowly  issue  forth  with  quivering  fins 
and  tail  from  under  the  shelving  bank.  The  small 
fry  at  this  would  suspend  their  hostilities,  and  scat- 
ter in  a  panic  at  the  appearance  of  overwhelming 
force. 

"Soft-hearted  philanthropists,"  thought  I,  "may 
sigh  long  for  their  peaceful  millennium  ;  for,  from 
minnows  up  to  men.  life  is  an  incessant  battle." 


298  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Evening  approached  at  last,  the  tall  mountain-tops 
around  were  still  gay  and  bright  in  sunshine,  while 
our  deep  glen  was  completely  shadowed.  I  left 
the  camp  and  ascended  a  neighboring  hill,  whose 
rocky  summit  commanded  a  wide  view  over  the 
surrounding  wilderness.  The  sun  was  still  glaring 
through  the  stifif  pines  on  the  ridge  of  the  western 
mountain.  In  a  moment  he  was  gone,  and  as  the 
landscape  rapidly  darkened,  1  turned  agam  toward 
the  village.  As  1  descended  the  hill  the  howling 
of  wolves  and  the  barking  of  foxes  came  up  out  of 
the  dim  woods  from  far  and  near.  The  camp  was 
glowing  with  a  multitude  of  fires  and  alive  with 
dusky  naked  figures,  whose  tall  shadows  flitted 
among  the  surrounding  crags. 

I  found  a  circle  of  smokers  seated  in  their  usual 
place  ;  that  is,  on  the  ground  before  the  lodge  of  a 
certain  warrior,  who  seemed  to  be  generally  known 
for  his  social  qualities.  1  sat  down  to  smoke  a 
parting  pipe  with  my  savage  friends.  That  day 
was  the  first  of  August,  on  which  I  liad  promised  to 
meet  Shaw  at  Fort  Laramie.  The  fort  was  less 
than  two  days'  journey  distant,  and  that  my  friend 
need  not  suffer  anxiety  on  my  account,  1  resolved  to 
push  fonvard  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  place  of 
meeting.  I  went  to  look  after  the  Hailj^t^m»_and 
having  found  him,  1  offered  him  a  handful  of 
hawks' -bells  and  a  paper  of  vermilion,  on  condition 
that  he  would  guide  me  in  the  morning  through  the 
mountains  within  sight  of  Laramie  Creek. 

The  Hail-Storm  ejaculated  "How!"  and  ac- 
cepted the  gift.  Nothing  more  was  said  on  either 
side  ;  the  matter  was  settled,  and  I  lay  down  to 
sleep  in  Kongra-Tonga's  lodge. 

Long  before  daylight,  Raymond  shook  me  by  the 
shoulder  : 

"  Ever)thing  is  ready,"  he  said. 


PASSAGE    OF  THE   MOUNTAINS.      299 

I  went  out.  The  morning  was  chill,  damp,  and 
dark  ;  and  the  whole  camp  seemed  asleep.  The 
Hail-Storm  sat  on  horseback  before  the  lodge,  and 
my  mare  Pauline  and  the  mule  which  Raymond 
rode  were  picketed  near  it.  We  saddled  and  made 
our  other  arrangements  for  the  journey,  but  before 
these  were  completed  the  camp  began  to  stir,  and 
the  lodge-coverings  fluttered  and  rustled  as  the 
squaws  pulled  them  down  in  preparation  for  de- 
parture. Just  as  the  light  began  to  appear  we  left 
the  ground,  passing  up  through  a  narrow  opening 
among  the  rocks  which  led  eastward  out  of  the 
meadow.  Gaining  the  top  of  this  passage,  I  turned 
round  and  sat  looking  back  upon  the  camp,  dimly 
visible  in  the  gray  light  of  the  morning.  All  was 
alive  with  the  bustle  of  preparation.  I  turned  away, 
half  unwilling  to  take  a  final  leave  of  my  savage 
associates.  We  turned  to  the  right,  passing  among 
rocks  and  pine  trees  so  dark  that  for  a  while  we 
could  scarcely  see  our  way.  The  country  in  front 
was  wild  and  broken,  half  hill,  half  plain,  partly 
open,  and  partly  covered  with  woods  of  pine  and 
oak.  Barriers  of  lofty  mountains  encompassed  it  ; 
the  woods  were  fresh  and  cool  in  the  early  morn- 
ing ;  the  peaks  of  the  mountains  were  wreathed 
with  mist,  and  sluggish  vapors  were  entangled 
among  the  forests  upon  their  sides.  At  length  the 
black  pinnacle  of  the  tallest  mountain  was  tipped 
with  gold  by  the  rising  sun.  About  that  time  the 
Hail-Storm,  who  rode  in  front,  gave  a  low  exclama- 
tion. Some  large  animal  leaped  up  from  among 
the  bushes,  and  an  elk,  as  I  thought,  his  horns 
thrown  back  over  his  neck,  darted  past  us  across 
the  open  space,  and  bounded  like  a  mad  thing  away 
among  the  adjoining  pines.  Raymond  was  soon  out 
of  his  saddle,  but  before  he  could  fire,  the  animal 
was  full  two  hundred  yards  distant.     The  ball  struck 


300  THE    O  REG  OX  TRAIL. 

its  mark,  though  much  too  low  for  mortal  effect. 
The  elk,  however,  wheeled  in  his  flight,  and  ran  at 
fijll  speed  aniong  the  trees,  nearly  at  right  angles  to 
his  former  course.  I  fired  and  broke  his  shoulder  ; 
still  he  moved  on.  limping  down  into  a  neighboring 
woody  hollow,  whither  the  young  Indian  followed 
and  killed  him.  When  we  reached  the  spot  we 
discovered  him  to  be  no  elk.  but  a  black -tailed 
deer,  an  animal  nearly  t^vice  the  size  of  the  common 
deer,  and  quite  unknown  in  the  east.  We  b^an  to 
cut  him  up  :  the  reports  of  the  rifles  had  reached 
the  ears  of  the  Indians,  and  before  our  task  was  fin- 
ished several  of  them  came  to  the  spot.  Lea\  ing 
the  hide  of  the  deer  to  the  Hail-Storm,  we  hung  as 
much  of  the  meat  as  we  wanted  behind  our  saddles, 
left  the  rest  to  the  Indians,  and  resimied  our  jour- 
ney. Meanwhile  the  village  was  on  its  way,  and 
had  gone  so  for  that  to  get  in  advance  of  it  was  im- 
possible. Therefore  we  directed  our  course  so  as  to 
strike  its  line  of  march  at  the  nearest  point.  In  a 
short  time,  through  the  dark  trunks  of  the  pines,  we 
could  see  the  figures  of  the  Indians  as  they  passed. 
Once  more  we  were  among  them.  They  were  mov- 
ing with  even  more  than  their  usual  precipitation, 
crowded  close  together  in  a  narrow  pass  between 
rocks  and  old  pine  trees.  We  were  on  the  eastern  de- 
scent of  the  mountain,  and  soon  came  to  a  rough  and 
difficult  defile,  leading  down  a  \er)-  steep  dechvity. 
The  whole  swaim  poured  down  together,  filling  the 
rocky  passage-way  like  some  turbulent  mountain- 
stream.  The  mountains  before  us  were  on  fire,  and 
had  been  so  for  weeks.  The  view  in  front  was  ob- 
scured by  a  vast  dim  sea  of  smoke  and  vapor,  while 
on  either  hand  the  tall  cliffs,  bearing  aloft  their  crest 
of  pines,  thrust  their  heads  boldly  through  it,  and 
the  sharp  pinnacles  and  broken  ridges  of  the  moun- 
tains bevond  them  were  faintlv  traceable  as  through 


PASSAGE    OF  THE   MOUNTAIXS.      3OI 

a  veil.  The  scene  in  itself  was  most  grand  and 
imposing,  but  with  the  savage  multitude,  the  armed 
warriors,  the  naked  children,  the  gayly  apparelled 
girls,  pouring  impetuously  down  the  heights,  it 
would  have  formed  a  noble  subject  for  a  painter, 
and  only  the  pen  of  a  Scott  could  have  done  it  jus- 
tice in  description. 

We  passed  over  a  burnt  tract  where  the  ground 
was  hot  beneath  the  horses'  feet,  and  between  the 
blazing  sides  of  two  mountains.  Before  long  we 
had  descended  to  a  softer  region,  where  we  found  a 
succession  of  little  valleys  watered  by  a  stream,  along 
the  borders  of  which  grew  an  abundance  of  wild 
gooseberries  and  currants,  and  the  children  and 
many  of  the  men  straggled  from  the  line  of  march 
to  gather  them  as  we  passed  along.  Descending 
still  farther,  the  view  changed  rapidly.  The  burn- 
ing mountains  were  behind  us,  and  through  the 
open  valleys  in  front  we  could  see  the  ocean-like 
prairie,  stretching  beyond  the  sight.  After  passing 
through  a  line  of  trees  that  skirted  the  brook,  the 
Indians  filed  out  upon  the  plains.  I  was  thirsty  and 
knelt  down  by  the  little  stream  to  drink.  As  I 
mounted  again,  I  \^r\  carelessly  left  my  rifle  among 
the  grass,  and  my  thoughts  being  otherwise  ab- 
sorbed, I  rode  for  some  distance  before  discovering 
its  absence.  As  the  reader  may  conceive,  I  lost 
no  time  in  turning  about  and  galloping  back  in 
search  of  it.  Passing  the  line  of  Indians,  I  watched 
even.-  warrior  as  he  rode  by  me  at  a  canter,  and  at 
length  discovered  my  rifle  in  the  hands  of  one  of 
them,  who,  on  my  approaching  to  claim  it,  imme- 
diately gave  it  up.  Having  no  other  means  of 
acknowledging  the  obligation,  I  took  off  one  of  my 
spurs  and  gave  it  to  him.  He  was  greatly  delighted, 
looking  upon  it  as  a  distinguished  mark  of  favor,  and 
immediately  held  out  his  foot  for  me  to  buckle  it  on. 


302  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

As  soon  as  I  had  done  so,  he  struck  it  with  all  his 
force  into  the  side  of  his  horse,  who  gave  a  violent 
leap.  The  Indian  laughed  and  spurred  harder  than 
before.  At  this  the  horse  shot  away  like  an  arrow, 
amid  the  screams  and  laughter  of  the  squaws, 
and  the  ejaculations  of  the  men,  who  exclaimed  : 
"  Washtay  ! — Good!"  at  the  potent  effect  of  my 
gift.  The  Indian  had  no  saddle,  and  nothing  in 
place  of  a  bridle  except  a  leather  string  tied  round 
the  horse's  jaw.  The  animal  was,  of  course,  wholly 
uncontrollable,  and  stretched  away  at  full  speed  over 
the  prairie,  till  he  and  his  rider  vanished  behind  a 
distant  swell.  I  never  saw  the  man  again,  but  I 
presume  no  harm  came  to  him.  An  Indian  on 
horseback  has  more  lives  than  a  cat. 

The  village  encamped  on  the  scorching  prairie, 
close  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The  heat  was 
most  intense  and  penetrating.  The  coverings  of  the 
lodgings  were  raised  a  foot  or  more  from  the  ground, 
in  order  to  procure  some  circulation  of  air  ;  and 
Reynal  thought  proper  to  lay  aside  his  trapper's 
dress  of  buckskin  and  assume  the  very  scanty  cos- 
tume of  an  Indian.  Thus  elegantly  attired,  he 
stretched  himself  in  his  lodge  on  a  buffalo-robe, 
alternately  cursing  the  heat  and  puffing  at  the  pipe 
which  he  and  I  passed  between  us.  There  was 
present  also  a  select  circle  of  Indian  friends  and 
relatives.  A  small  boiled  puppy  was  served  up  as 
a  parting  feast,  to  which  was  added,  by  way  of 
dessert,  a  wooden  bowl  of  gooseberries,  from  the 
mountains. 

"Look  there,"  said  Reynal,  pointing  out  of  the 
opening  of  his  lodge;  "do  you  see  that  line 
of  buttes  about  fifteen  miles  off?  Well,  now  do 
you  see  that  farthest  one,  with  the  white  speck 
on  the  face  of  it  ?  Do  you  think  you  ever  saw 
it  before  ?' ' 


PASSAGE    OF  THE  MOUNTAINS.      303 

"  \\.  looks  to  me,"  said  I.  "like  the  hill  that  we 
were  'camped  under  when  we  were  on  Laramie 
Creek,  six  or  eight  weeks  ago." 

"You've  hit  it,"  answered  Reynal. 

"Go,  and  bring  in  the  animals,  Raymond,"  said 
I  ;  "we'll  camp  there  to-night,  and  start  for  the  fort 
in  the  morning." 

The  mare  and  the  mule  were  soon  before  the 
lodge.  We  saddled  them,  and  in  the  meantime  a 
number  of  Indians  collected  about  us.  The  virtues 
of  Pauline,  my  strong,  fleet,  and  hardy  little  mare, 
were  well  known  in  camp,  and  several  of  the  visitors 
were  mounted  upon  good  horses  which  they  had 
brought  me  as  presents.  I  promptly  declined  their 
offers,  since  accepting  them  would  have  involved 
the  necessity  of  transferring  poor  Pauline  into  their 
barbarous  hands.  We  took  leave  of  Reynal,  but 
not  of  the  Indians,  who  are  accustomed  to  dispense 
with  such  superfluous  ceremonies.  Leaving  the 
camp,  we  rode  straight  over  the  prairie  toward  the 
white-faced  bluff,  whose  pale  ridges  swelled  gently 
against  the  horizon,  like  a  cloud.  An  Indian  went 
with  us,  whose  name  1  forget,  though  the  ugliness 
of  his  face  and  the  ghastly  width  of  his  mouth  dwell 
vividly  in  my  recollection.  The  antelope  were  numer- 
ous, but  we  did  not  heed  them.  We  rode  directly 
toward  our  destination,  over  the  arid  plains  and 
barren  hills  ;  until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  half-spent 
with  heat,  thirst,  and  fatigue,  we  saw  a  gladdening 
sight  :  the  long  line  of  trees  and  the  deep  gulf  that 
mark  the  course  of  Laramie  Creek.  Passing  through 
the  growth  of  huge  dilapidated  old  cotton-wood  trees 
that  bordered  the  creek,  we  rode  across  to  the  other 
side.  The  rapid  and  foaming  waters  were  filled  with 
fish  playing  and  splashing  in  the  shallows.  As  we 
gamed  the  farther  bank,  our  horses  turned  eagerly 
to  drink,  and  we,  kneeling  on  the  sand,  followed 


304  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

their  example.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  the 
scene  began  to  grow  famihar. 

"  We  are  getting  near  home,  Raymond,"  said  I. 

There  stood  the  big  tree  under  which  we  had  en- 
camped so  long  ;  there  were  the  white  chffs  that  used 
to  look  down  upon  our  tent  when  it  stood  at  the  bend 
of  the  creek  ;  there  was  the  meadow  in  which  our 
horses  had  grazed  for  weeks,  and  a  little  farther  on, 
the  prairie-dog  %-illage,  where  I  had  beguiled  many 
a  languid  hour  in  persecuting  the  unfortunate  inhab- 
itants. 

"We  are  going  to  catch  it  now,"  said  Raymond, 
turning  his  broad,  vacant  face  up  toward  the  sky. 

In  truth  the  landscape,  the  cliffs,  and  the  meadow, 
the  stream  and  the  groves,  were  darkening  fast. 
Black  m-asses  of  cloud  were  swelhng  up  in  the  south, 
and  the  thunder  was  growling  ominously. 

"We  ■will  'camp  there,"  1  said,  pointing  to  a 
dense  grove  of  trees  lower  down  the  stream.  Ray- 
mond and  I  turned  toward  it,  but  the  Indian  stopped 
and  called  earnestly  after  us.  AMien  we  demanded 
what  was  the  matter,  he  said  that  the  ghosts  of  two 
warriors  were  always  among  those  trees,  and  that 
if  we  slept  there  they  would  scream  and  throw 
stones  at  us  all  night,  and  perhaps  steal  our  horses 
before  morning.  Thinking  it  as  well  to  humor  him, 
we  left  behind  us  the  haunt  of  these  extraordinar^'^ 
ghosts,  and  passed  on  toward  Chug^Aater.  riding  at 
fiill  gallop,  for  the  big  drops  began  to  patter  down. 
Soon  we  came  in  sight  of  the  poplar  saplings  that 
grew  about  the  mouth  of  the  little  stream.  We 
leaped  to  the  ground,  threw  off  our  saddles,  turned 
our  horses  loose,  and,  draviing  our  knives,  began  to 
slash  among  the  bushes  to  cut  tvWgs  and  branches 
for  making  a  shelter  against  the  rain.  Bending 
down  the  taller  saplings  as  they  grew,  we  piled  the 
young  shoots  upon  them,  and  thus  made  a  con- 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUNTAINS.      305 

venient  pent-house  ;  but  all  our  labor  was  useless. 
The  storm  scarcely  touched  us.  Half  a  mile  on 
our  right  the  rain  was  pouring  down  like  a  cataract, 
and  the  thunder  roared  over  the  prairie  like  a  bat- 
tery of  cannon  ;  while  we,  by  good  fortune,  received 
only  a  few  heavy  drops  from  the  skirt  of  the  pass- 
ing cloud.  The  weather  cleared  and  the  sun  set 
gloriously.  Sitting  close  under  our  leafy  canopy, 
we  proceeded  to  discuss  a  sul^stantial  meal  of  wasna 
which  Weah-Washtay  had  given  me.  The  Indian 
had  brought  with  him  his  pipe  and  a  bag  of  shojig- 
sasha ;  so  before  lying  down  to  sleep,  we  sat  for 
some  time  smoking  together.  Previously,  however, 
our  wide-mouthed  friend  had  taken  the  precaution 
of  carefully  examining  the  neighborhood.  He  re- 
ported that  eight  men,  counting  them  on  his  fingers, 
had  been  encamped  there  not  long  before.  Bison- 
ette,  Paul  Dorion,  Antoine  Le  Rouge,  Richardson, 
and  four  others,  whose  names  he  could  not  tell. 
All  this  proved  strictly  correct.  By  what  instinct  he 
had  arrived  at  such  accurate  conclusions,  1  am 
utterly  at  a  loss  to  divine. 

It  was  still  ciuite  dark  when  I  awoke  and  called 
Raymond.  The  Indian  was  already  gone,  having 
chosen  to  go  on  before  us  to  the  fort.  Setting  out 
after  him,  we  rode  for  some  time  in  complete  dark- 
ness, and  when  the  sun  at  length  rose,  glowing  like 
a  fiery  ball  of  copper,  we  were  ten  miles  distant 
from  the  fort.  At  length,  from  the  broken  summit 
of  a  tall  sandy  bluff,  we  could  see  Fort  Laramie, 
miles  before  us,  standing  by  the  side  of  the  stream, 
like  a  little  gray  speck,  in  the  midst  of  the  bound- 
less desolation.  I  stopped  my  horse,  and  sat  for  a 
moment  looking  down  upon  it.  It  seemed  to  me 
the  very  centre  of  comfort  and  civilization.  We 
were  not  long  in  approaching  it,  for  we  rode  at 
speed  the  greater  part  of  the  way.  Laramie  Creek 
20 


306  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

still  intenened  between  us  and  the  friendly  walls. 
Entering  the  water  at  the  point  where  we  had  struck 
upon  the  bank,  we  raised  our  feet  to  the  saddle  be- 
hind us,  and  thus  kneeling,  as  it  were,  on  horseback, 
passed  dr>"-shod  through  the  swift  current.  As  we 
rode  up  the  bank,  a  number  of  men  appeared  in 
the  gateway.  Three  of  them  came  forw  ard  to  meet 
us.  In  a  moment  I  distinguished  Shaw  ;  Henrj' 
ChatOlon  followed  with  his  face  of  manly  simphcitj- 
and  frankness,  and  Delorier  came  last,  with  a  broad 
grin  of  welcome.  The  meeting  was  not  on  either 
side  one  of  mere  ceremony.  For  my  own  part,  the 
change  was  a  most  agreeable  one,  from  the  society' 
of  savages  and  men  little  better  than  savages,  to 
that  of  my  gallant  and  high-minded  companion, 
and  our  noble-hearted  guide.  My  appearance  was 
equally  gratifjing  to  Shaw,  who  was  beginning  to 
entertain  some  ver}-  uncomfortable  surmises  con- 
cerning me. 

Bordeaux  greeted  m.e  ver\-  cordially,  and  shouted 
to  the  cook.  This  functionan,-  was  a  new  acquisi- 
tion, ha^-ing  lately  come  from  Fort  Pierre  with  the 
trading-wagons.  Whatever  skill  he  might  ha\e 
boasted,  he  had  not  the  most  promising  materials 
to  exercise  it  upon.  He  set  before  me,  however,  a 
breakfast  of  biscuit,  coiTee,  and  salt  pork.  It  seemed 
like  a  new  phase  of  existence  to  be  seated  once 
more  on  a  bench,  v^ith  a  knife  and  fork,  a  plate  and 
tea-cup,  and  something  resembhng  a  table  before 
me.  The  coffee  seemed  dehcious,  and  the  bread 
was  a  most  welcome  novelty,  since  for  three  weeks 
I  had  eaten  scarcely  am-thing  but  meat,  and  that 
for  the  most  part  vdthout  salt.  The  meal  also  had 
the  reUsh  of  good  company,  for  opposite  to  me  sat 
Shaw  in  elegant  dishabiUe.  If  one  is  anxious 
thoroughly  to  appreciate  the  value  of  a  congenial 
companion,   he  bias  only  to  spend  a  few  weeks  by 


THE   LONELY  JOURXEY.  307 

himself  in  an  Ogillallah  village.  And  if  he  can 
contrive  to  add  to  his  seclusion  a  debilitating  and 
somewhat  critical  illness,  his  perceptions  upon  this 
subject  will  be  rendered  considerably  more  vivid. 

Shaw  had  been  upward  of  two  weeks  at  the  fort. 
I  found  him  established  in  his  old  quarters,  a  large 
apartment  usually  occupied  by  the  absent  bourgeois. 
In  one  corner  was  a  soft  and  luxurious  pile  of  excel- 
lent bufifalo-robes,  and  here  1  lay  down.  Shaw 
brought  me  three  books. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  your  Shakespeare  and  By- 
ron, and  here  is  the  Old  Testament,  which  has  as 
much  poetr\-  in  it  as  the  other  two  put  together." 

I  chose  the  worst  of  the  three,  and  for  the  greater 
part  of  that  day  1  lay  on  the  buffalo-robes,  fairly 
revelling  in  the  creations  of  that  resplendent  genius 
which  has  achieved  no  more  signal  triumph  than 
that  of  half  beguiling  us  to  forget  the  pitiful  and  un- 
manly character  of  its  possessor. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  LONELY  JOURNEY. 

"  Of  antres  vast,  and  deserts  idle. 
Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  whose  heads  touch  heaven." 

Othello. 

On  the  day  of  my  arrival  at  Fort  Laramie,  Shaw 
and  I  were  lounging  on  two  buffalo-robes  in  the  large 
apartment  hospitably  assigned  to  us  ;  Henry  Cha- 
tillon  also  was  present,  busy  about  the  harness  and 
weapons,  which  had  been  brought  into  the  room, 
and  two  or  three  Indians  were  crouching  on  the 
floor,  eyeing  us  with  their  fixed  unwavering  gaze. 

' '  I  have  been  well  off  here, ' '  said  Shaw,  "  in  all 


308  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

respects  but  one  :  there  is  no  good  shongsasht^  to  be 
had  for  love  or  money. 

I  gave  him  a  small  leather  bag  containing  some 
of  excellent  qualit\',  which  I  had  brought  fiomi  the 
Black  HOls.  "Now,  Henry,"  said  he,  "hand  me 
Paoin's  chopping-board.  or  give  it  to  that  Indian, 
and  let  him  cut  the  mixture ;  they  understand  it 
b^ter  than  any  white  man." 

The  Indian,  without  saying  a  word,  mixed  the 
bark  and  the  tobacco  in  due  proportions,  filled  the 
pipe,  and  lighted  iL  This  done,  my  companion 
and  I  proceeded  to  deliberate  on  our  fiiture  course 
of  proceeding  ;  first,  however,  Shaw  acquainted  me 
with  some  incidents  which  had  occurred  at  the  fort 
ciuring  my  absence. 

About  a  week  previous  four  men  had  arrived  from 
beyond  the  mountains  :  Sublette,  Reddick,  and  two 
others.  Just  brfore  reaching  the  fort  they  had  m^ 
a  large  party  of  Indians,  chiefly  young  men.  All 
of  them  belonged  to  the  tillage  of  our  old  fiiiend 
Smoke,  who^^wifli^sw^ole  ^nd  of  adherents, 
professed  Ae  greatest  tnencishifi--fep-tfat>-  whites. 
The  travellers  therefore  approached,  and  began  to 
converse  without  the  least  suspicion.  Suddenly, 
however,  their  bridles  were  violently  seized,  and 
they  were  ordered  to  dismount.  Instead  of  com- 
plying, they  struck  their  horses  with  full  force  and 
broke  away  from  the  Indians.  As  they  galloped  oflT 
they  heard  a  yeU  behind  them,  mixed  with  a  burst 
of  deri^ve  laughter,  and  the  reports  of  several  guns. 
None  of  them  were  hurt,  thot^h  Reddick' s  bridle- 
rein  was  cut  by  a  bullet  within  an  inch  of  his  hand. 
After  this  taste  of  Indian  hostiht)-.  they  felt  for  the 
moment  no  disposition  to  encounter  &rther  risks. 
They  intended  to  pursue  the  route  southward  along 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  to  Bent's  Fort :  and  as 
our  plans  coincided  with  theirs    they  proposed  to 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  309 

join  forces.  Finding,  however,  that  I  did  not  re- 
turn, they  grew  impatient  of  inaction,  forgot  their 
late  escape,  and  set  out  without  us,  promising  to 
wait  our  arrival  at  Bent's  Fort.  From  thence  we 
were  to  make  the  long  journey  to  the  settlements  in 
company,  as  the  path  was  not  a  little  dangerous, 
being  infested  by  hostile  Pawnees  and  Comanches. 

We  expected,  on  reaching  Bent's  Fort,  to  find 
there  still  another  reinforcement.  A  young  Ken- 
tuckian,  of  the  true  Kentucky  blood,  generous,  im- 
petuous, and  a  gentleman  withal,  had  come  out  to 
the  mountains  with  Russel's  party  of  California 
emigrants.  One  of  his  chief  objects,  as  he  gave 
out,  was  to  kill  an  Indian  ;  an  exploit  which  he 
afterward  succeeded  in  achieving,  much  to  the 
jeopardy  of  ourselves  and  others  who  had  to  pass 
through  the  country  of  the  dead  Pawnee's  enraged 
relatives.  Having  become  disgusted  with  his  emi- 
grant associates,  he  left  them,  and  had  some  time 
before  set  out  with  a  party  of  companions  for  the 
head  of  the  Arkansas.  He  sent  us  previously  a 
letter,  intimating  that  he  would  wait  until  we  arrived 
at  Bent's  Fort,  and  accompany  us  thence  to  the  set- 
tlements. When,  however,  he  came  to  the  fort  he 
found  there  a  party  of  forty  men  about  to  make  the 
homeward  journey.  He  wisely  preferred  to  avail 
himself  of  so  strong  an  escort.  Mr.  Sublette  and 
his  companions  also  set  out,  in  order  to  overtake 
this  company  ;  so  that  on  reaching  Bent's  Fort, 
some  six  weeks  after,  we  found  ourselves  deserted 
by  our  allies  and  thrown  once  more  upon  our  own 
resources. 

But  I  am  anticipating.  When,  before  leaving 
the  settlements,  we  had  made  inquiries  concerning 
this  part  of  the  country  of  General  Kearney,  Mr. 
Mackenzie,  Captain  Wyeth,  and  others  well  ac- 
quainted with  it,    they   had  all  advised  us  by   no 


3IO  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

means  to  attempt  this  southward  journey  with  fewer 
than  fifteen  or  tw-enty  men.  The  danger  consists 
in  the  chance  of  encountering  Indian  war-parties. 
Sometimes,  throughout  the  whole  length  of  the 
journey  (a  distance  of  three  hundred  and  fifty 
miles),  one  does  not  meet  a  singleTuinian  being  ; 
fi^uently,  however,  the  route  is  beset  by  Arapa- 
hoes  and  other  unfriendly  tribes  ;  in  which  case  the 
scalp  of  the  adventurer  is  in  imminent  peril.  As 
to  the  escort  of  fifteen  or  twenty  men,  such  a  force 
of  whites  could  at  that  time  scarcely  be  collected  in 
the  whole  countn,'  ;  and  had  the  case  been  other- 
N^ase,  the  expense  of  securing  them,  together  with 
the  necessan,-  number  of  horses,  would  have  been 
extremely  hea\y.  We  had  resolved,  however,  upon 
pursuing  this  southward  course.  There  were,  in- 
deed, two  other  routes  from  Fort  Laramie  ;  but  both 
of  these  were  less  interesting,  and  neither  was  free 
from  danger.  Being  unable,  therefore,  to  procure 
the  fifteen  or  twenty  men  recommended,  we  deter- 
mined to  set  out  with  those  we  had  already  in  our 
employ — Henn,^  Chatillon,  Delorier,  and  Raymond. 
The  men  themselves  made  no  objection,  nor  would 
they  have  made  any  had  the  journey  been  more 
dangerous  ;  for  Henr)"  was  without  fear,  and  the 
other  two  without  thought. 

Shaw  and  I  were  much  better  fitted  for  this  mode 
of  travelling  than  we  had  been  on  betaking  our- 
selves to  the  prairies  for  the  first  time  a  few  months 
before.  The  daily  routine  had  ceased  to  be  a  nov- 
elt\-.  All  the  details  of  the  journey  and  the  camp 
had  become  familiar  to  us.  We  had  seen  life  under 
a  new  aspect  ;  the  human  biped  had  been  reduced 
to  his  primitive  condition.  We  had  lived  without 
law  to  protect,  a  roof  to  shelter,  or  garment  of  cloth 
to  cover  us.  One  of  us,  at  least,  had  been  without 
bread,  and  without  salt  to  season  his  food.    Our  idea 


THE   LOXELY  JOURXEY.  311 

of  what  is  indispensable  to  human  existence  and 
enjoyment  had  been  wonderfully  curtailed,  and  a 
horse,  a  rifle,  and  a  knife  seemed  to  make  up  the 
whole  of  life's  necessaries.  For  these  once  ob- 
tained, together  with  the  skill  to  use  them,  all  else 
that  is  essential  would  follow  in  their  train,  and  a 
host  of  luxuries  besides.  One  other  lesson  our 
short  prairie  experience  had  taught  us  :  that  of  pro- 
found contentment  in  the  present,  and  utter  con- 
tempt for  what  the  future  might  bring  forth. 

These  principles  established,  we  prepared  to  leave 
Fort  Laramie.  On  the  fourth  day  of  August,  early 
in  the  afternoon,  we  bade  a  final  adieu  to  its  hos- 
pitable gateway.  Again  Shaw  and  I  were  riding 
side  by  side  on  the  prairie.  For  the  first  fifty  miles 
we  had  companions  with  us  :  Troche,  a  little  trap- 
per, and  Rouville,  a  nondescript  in  the  employ  of 
the  Fur  Company,  who  were  going  to  join  the  trader 
Bisonette,  at  his  encampment  near  the  head  of 
Horse  Creek.  We  rode  only  six  or  eight  miles  that 
afternoon  before  we  came  to  a  little  brook  trav- 
ersing the  barren  prairie.  All  along  its  course  grew 
copses  of  young  wild-cherry  trees,  loaded  with  ripe 
fruit,  and  almost  concealing  the  gliding  thread  of 
water  with  their  dense  growth,  while  on  each  side 
rose  swells  of  rich  green  grass.  Here  we  en- 
camped ;  and  being  much  too  indolent  to  pitch  our 
tent,  we  flung  our  saddles  on  the  ground,  spread  a 
pair  of  buffalo-robes,  lay  down  upon  them,  and 
began  to  smoke.  Meanwhile,  Delorier  busied  him- 
self with  his  hissing  frying-pan.  and  Raymond 
stood  guard  over  the  band  of  grazing  horses.  Delo- 
rier had  an  active  assistant  in  Rouville,  who  pro- 
fessed great  skill  in  the  culinan,-  art,  and.  seizing 
upon  a  fork,  began  to  lend  his  zealous  aid  in  making 
ready  supper.  Indeed,  according  to  his  own  belief, 
Rouville  was  a  man  of  universal  knowledge,  and  he 


lost  no  opportunity  to  display  his  manifold  accom- 
plishments. He  had  been  a  circus-rider  at  St. 
Louis,  and  once  he  rode  round  Fort  Laramie  on  his 
head,  to  the  utter  bewilderment  of  all  the  Indians. 
He  was  also  noted  as  the  wit  of  the  fort  ;  and  as  he 
had  considerable  humor  and  abundant  vivacit}-,  he 
contributed  more  that  night  to  the  liveliness  of  the 
camp  than  all  the  rest  of  the  party  put  together. 
At  one  instant  he  would  be  kneeling  by  Delorier, 
instructing  him  in  the  true  method  of  frj^ing  ante- 
lope-steaks, then  he  would  come  and  seat  himself 
at  our  side,  dilating  upon  the  orthodox  fashion  of 
braiding  up  a  horse's  tail,  telling  apocryphal  stories 
how  he  had  killed  a  bufifalo-bull  with  a  knife,  having 
first  cut  off  his  tail  when  at  full  speed,  or  relating 
whimsical  anecdotes  of  the  boia-geots  Papin.  At 
last  he  snatched  up  a  volume  of  Shakespeare  that 
was  lying  on  the  grass,  and  halted  and  stumbled 
through  a  line  or  two  to  prove  that  he  could  read. 
He  went  gambolling  about  the  camp,  chattering 
like  some  frolicsome  ape  ;  and  whatever  he  was 
doing  at  one  moment,  the  presumption  was  a  sure 
one  that  he  would  not  be  doing  it  the  next.  His 
companion  Troche  sat  silently  on  the  grass,  not 
speaking  a  word,  but  keeping  a  vigilant  eye  on  a 
very  ugly  little  Utah  squaw,  of  whom  he  was  ex- 
tremely jealous. 

On  the  next  day  we  travelled  farther,  crossing 
the  wide  sterile  basin  called  "Goche's  Hole." 
Toward  night  we  became  involved  among  deep 
ravines  ;  and  being  also  unable  to  find  water,  our 
journey  was  protracted  to  a  ver}-  late  hour.  On 
the  next  morning  we  had  to  pass  a  long  line  of 
bluffs,  whose  raw  sides,  wrought  upon  by  rains  and 
storms,  were  of  a  ghastly  whiteness  most  oppressive 
to  the  sight.  As  we  ascended  a  gap  in  these  hills, 
the  way  was  marked  by  huge  footprints,  like  those 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  313 

of  a  human  giant.  They  were  the  track  of  the 
grizzly  bear  ;  and  on  the  previous  day  also  we  had 
seen  an  abundance  of  them  along  the  dr\'  channels  of 
the  streams  we  had  passed.  Immediately  after  this 
we  were  crossing  a  barren  plain,  spreading  in  long 
and  gentle  undulations  to  the  horizon.  Though  the 
sun  was  bright,  there  was  a  light  haze  in  the  atmo- 
sphere. The  distant  hills  assumed  strange,  distorted 
forms,  and  the  edge  of  the  horizon  was  continually 
changing  its  aspect.  Shaw  and  I  were  riding 
together,  and  Henry  Chatillon  was  alone,  a  few 
rods  before  us  ;  he  stopped  his  horse  suddenly,  and 
turning  round  with  the  peculiar  eager  and  earnest 
expression  which  he  always  wore  when  excited,  he 
called  us  to  come  forward.  We  galloped  to  his 
side.  Henry  pointed  toward  a  black  speck  on  the 
gray  swell  of  the  prairie,  apparently  about  a  mile 
off.  ' '  It  must  be  a  bear, ' '  said  he  ;  "  come,  now 
we  shall  all  have  some  sport.  Better  fun  to  fight 
him  than  to  fight  an  old  buffalo-bull  ;  grizzly  bear 
so  strong  and  smart." 

So  we  all  galloped  forward  together,  prepared  for 
a  hard  fight ;  for  these  bears,  though  clumsy  in  ap- 
pearance and  extremely  large,  are  incredibly  fierce 
and  active.  The  swell  of  the  prairie  concealed  the 
black  object  from  our  view.  Immediately  after  it 
appeared  again.  But  now  it  seemed  quite  near  to 
us  ;  and  as  we  looked  at  it  in  astonishment,  it  sud- 
denly separated  into  two  parts,  each  of  which  took 
wing  and  flew  away.  We  stopped  our  horses  and 
looked  round  at  Henr\-,  whose  face  exhibited  a 
curious  mixture  of  mirth  and  mortification.  His 
hawk's  eye  had  been  so  completely  deceived  by  the 
peculiar  atmosphere,  that  he  had  mistaken  two 
large  crows  at  the  distance  of  fifty  rods  for  a  grizzly 
bear  a  mile  off.  To  the  journey's  end  Henr>'  never 
heard  the  last  of  the  grizzly  bear  with  wings. 


314  THE^  OR  EG  OX  TRAIL. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  the  foot  of  a  consid- 
erable hill.  As  we  ascended  it,  Rouville  began  to 
ask  questions  concerning  our  condition  and  pros- 
pects at  home,  and  Shaw  was  edifying  him  with  a 
minute  account  of  an  imaginan.-  wife  and  child,  to 
which  he  listened  with  implicit  faith.  Reaching  the 
top  of  the  hill,  we  saw  the  ■v^'indings  of  Horse  Creek 
on  the  plains  below  us,  and  a  little  on  the  left  we 
could  distinguish  the  camp  of  Bisonette  among  the 
trees  and  copses  along  the  course  of  the  stream. 
Rouville"  s  face  assumed  just  then  a  most  ludicrously 
blank  expression.  We  inquired  what  was  the  matter  ; 
when  it  appeared  that  Bisonette  had  sent  him  from 
this  place  to  Fort  Laramie  with  the  sole  object  of 
bringing  back  a  supply  of  tobacco.  Our  ratdebrain 
friend,  from  the  time  of  his  reaching  the  fort  up  to 
the  present  moment,  had  entirely  forgotten  the  ob- 
ject of  his  journey,  and  had  ridden  a  dangerous 
hundred  miles  for  nothing.  Descending  to  Horse 
Creek,  we  forded  it,  and  on  the  opposite  bank  a  soli- 
tan.-  Indian  sat  on  horseback  under  a  tree.  He  said 
nothing,  but  turned  and  led  the  way  toward  the 
camp.  Bisonette  had  made  choice  of  an  admirable 
position.  The  stream,  with  its  thick  growth  of  trees, 
inclosed  on  three  sides  a  wide  green  meadow,  where 
about  fort}-  Dahcotah  lodges  were  pitched  in  a  circle, 
and  beyond  them  half  a  dozen  lodges  of  the  friendly 
Shienne.  Bisonette  himself  lived  in  the  Indian 
manner.  Riding  up  to  his  lodge,  we  found  him 
seated  at  the  head  of  it,  surrounded  by  various  ap- 
pliances of  comfort  not  common  on  the  prairie. 
His  squaw  was  near  him,  and  rosy  children  were 
scrambling  about  in  printed-calico  gowns  ;  Paul 
Dorion  also,  with  his  leathery  face  and^  old  white 
capote,  was  seated  in  the  lodge,  together  with  An- 
toine  Le  Rouge,  a  half-breed  Pawnee,  Sibille,  a 
trader,  and  several  other  white  men. 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  315 

"It  will  do  you  no  harm,"  said_J3isonette,  "to 
stay  here  with  us  for  a  day  or  two  before  you  start 
for  the  Pueblo. ' ' 

We  accepted  the  invitation,  and  pitched  our  tent 
on  a  rising  ground  above  the  camp  and  close  to  the 
edge  of  the  trees.  Bisonette  soon  invited  us  to  a 
feast,  and  we  suffered  an  abundance  of  the  same  sort 
of  attention  from  his  Indian  associates.  The  reader 
may  possibly  recollect  that  when  I  joined  the  Indian 
I'illage,  beyond  the  Black  Hills,  I  found  that  a  few 
families  were  absent,  having  declined  to  pass  the 
mountains  along  with  the  rest.  The  Indians  in 
Bisonette' s  camp  consisted  of  these  very  famihes, 
and  many  of  them  came  to  me  that  evening  to  in- 
quire after  their  relatives  and  friends.  They  were 
not  a  httle  mortified  to  learn  that  while  they,  from 
their  own  timidity  and  indolence,  were  almost  in  a 
starving  condition,  the  rest  of  the  village  had  pro- 
vided their  lodges  for  the  ne.xt  season,  laid  in  a  great 
stock  of  provisions,  and  were  living  in  abundance 
and  luxur>'.  Bisonette' s  companions  had  been  sus- 
taining themselves  for  some  time  on  wild  cherries, 
which  the  squaws  pounded  up,  stones  and  all,  and 
spread  on  buffalo-robes,  to  dry  in  the  sun  ;  they 
were  then  eaten  without  farther  preparation,  or  used 
as  an  ingredient  in  various  delectable  compounds. 

On  the  next  day  the  camp  was  in  commotion  with 
a  new  arrival.  A  single  Indian  had  come  with  his 
family  the  whole  way  from  the  Arkansas.  As  he 
passed  among  the  lodges  he  put  on  an  expression  of 
unusual  dignity  and  importance,  and  gave  out  that 
he  had  brought  great  news  to  tell  the  whites.  Soon 
after  the  squaws  had  erected  his  lodge,  he  sent  his 
little  son  to  invite  all  the  white  men  and  all  the 
more  distinguished  Indians  to  a  feast.  The  guests 
arrived  and  sat  wedged  "together,  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der,  within   the   hot   and  suffocating   lodge.     The 


1 6  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


Stabber,  for  that  was  our  entertainer's  name,  had 
killed  an  old  buffalo-bull  on  his  way.  This  veteran' s 
boiled  tripe,  tougher  than  leather,  formed  the  main 
item  of  the  repast.  For  the  rest,  it  consisted  of  wild 
cherries  and  grease  boiled  together  in  a  large  copper 
kettle.  The  feast  was  distributed,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment all  was  silent,  strenuous  exertion  ;  then  each 
guest,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  however,  turned 
his  wooden  dish  bottom  upward  to  prove  that  he  had 
done  full  justice  to  his  entertainer' s  hospitality.  The 
Stabber  next  produced  his  chopping-board,  on  which 
he  prepared  the  mixture  for  smoking,  and  filled 
several  pipes,  which  circulated  among  the  company. 
This  done,  he  seated  himself  upright  on  his  couch, 
and  began  with  much  gesticulation  to  tell  his  story. 
I  will  not  repeat  his  childish  jargon.  It  was  so  en- 
tangled, like  the  greater  part  of  an  Indian's  stories, 
with  absurd  and  contradictory-  details,  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  disengage  from  it  a  single  par- 
ticle of  truth.  All  that  we  could  gather  was  the 
following  : 

He  had  been  on  the  Arkansas,  and  there  he  had 
seen  six  great  war-parties  of  whites.  He  had  never 
believed  before  that  the  whole  world  contained  half 
so  many  white  men.  They  all  had  large  horses, 
long  knives,  and  short  rifles,  and  some  of  them 
were  attired  alike  in  the  most  splendid  war-dresses 
he  had  ever  seen.  From  this  account  it  was  clear 
that  bodies  of  dragoons  and  perhaps  also  of  volun- 
teer cavaln.-  had  been  passing  up  the  Arkansas. 
The  Stabber  had  also  seen  a  great  many  of  the  white 
lodges  of  the  Meneaska,  drawn  by  their  long-horned 
buffalo.  These  could  be  nothing  else  than  covered 
ox-wagons,  used,  no  doubt,  in  transporting  stores  for 
the  troops.  Soon  after  seeing  this,  our  host  had 
met  an  Indian  who  had  lately  come  from  among  the 
Comanches.     The  latter  had  told  him  that  all  the 


THE   L  ONEL  Y  JO  URNE  Y.  3 1 7 

Mexicans  had  gone  out  to  a  great  buffalo-hunt ; 
that  the  Americans  had  hid  themselves  in  a  ravine. 
When  the  Mexicans  had  shot  away  all  their  arrows, 
the  Americans  had  fired  their  guns,  raised  their  war- 
whoop,  rushed  out,  and  killed  them  all.  We  could 
only  infer  from  this  that  war  had  been  declared 
with  Me.xico,  and  a  batde  fought  in  which  the 
Americans  were  victorious.  When,  some  weeks 
after,  we  arrived  at  the  Pueblo,  we  heard  of  General 
Kearney's  march  up  the  Arkansas,  and  of  General 
Taylor's  victories  at  INIatamoras. 

As  the  sun  was  setting  that  evening  a  great  crowd 
gathered  on  the  plain,  by  the  side  of  our  tent,  to  try 
the  speed  of  their  horses.  These  were  of  every 
shape,  size,  and  color.  Some  came  from  California, 
some  from  the  States,  some  from  among  the  moun- 
tains, and  som.e  from  the  wild  bands  of  the  prairie. 
They  were  of  every  hue — white,  black,  red,  and 
gray,  or  mottled  and  clouded  with  a  strange  variety 
of  colors.  They  all  had  a  wild  and  startled  look, 
very  different  from  the  staid  and  sober  aspect  of  a 
well-bred  city  steed.  Those  most  noted  for  swift- 
ness and  spirit  were  decorated  with  eagle  feathers 
dangling  from  their  manes  and  tails.  Fifty  or  sixty 
Dahcotah  were  present,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot 
in  their  heavy  robes  of  whitened  hide.  There  were 
also  a  considerable  number  of  the  Shienne,  many 
of  whom  wore  gaudy  Mexican  ponchos,  swathed 
around  their  shoulders,  but  leaving  the  right  arm 
bare.  Mingled  among  the  crowd  of  Indians  were 
a  number  of  Canadians,  chiefly  in  the  employ  of 
Bisonette  ;  men  whose  home  is  the  wilderness,  and 
who  love  the  camp-fire  better  than  the  domestic 
hearth.  They  are  contented  and  happy  in  the 
midst  of  hardship,  privation,  and  danger.  Their 
cheerfulness  and  gayety  is  irrepressible,  and  no 
people  on  earth  understand  better  how  ' '  to  daff  the 


3l8  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

world  aside  and  bid  it  pass."  Besides  these,  were 
two  or  three  half-breeds,  a  race  of  rather  extraordi- 
nary- composition,  being,  according  to  the  common 
sajii^,  half  Indian,  half  white  man,  and  half 
devil.  Antoine  Le  Rouge  was  the  most  conspicuous 
among  them,  viith  his  loose  pantaloons  and  his 
fluttering  calico  shirt.  A  handkerchief  was  bound 
round  his  head  to  confine  his  black  snaky  hair,  and 
his  small  eyes  twinkled  beneath  it  with  a  mis- 
chievous lustre.  He  had  a  fine  cream-colored 
horse,  whose  speed  he  must  needs  Xxs  along  with 
the  rest.  So  he  threw  off  the  rude  high-peaked 
saddle,  and  substituting  a  piece  of  buffalo-robe, 
leaped  lightly  into  his  seat.  The  space  was  cleared, 
the  word  was  given,  and  he  and  his  Indian  rival 
darted  out  like  lightning  from  among  the  crowd, 
each  stretching  forward  over  his  horse's  neck  and 
plying  his  hea%-}'  Indian  whip  with  might  and  main. 
A  moment,  and  both  were  lost  in  the  gloom  ;  but 
Antoine  soon  came  riding  back  victorious,  exult- 
ingly  patting  the  neck  of  his  quivering  and  panting 
horse. 

About  m.idnight,  as  I  lay  asleep,  wrapped  in  a 
bufifalo-robe  on  the  ground  by  the  side  of  our  cart, 
RaNinond  came  up  and  woke  me.  Something,  he 
said,  was  going  forward  which  I  would  like  to  see. 
Looking  down  into  the  camp  I  saw,  on  the  farther 
side  of  it.  a  great  number  of  Indians  gathered 
around  a  fire,  the  bright  glare  of  which  made  them 
visible  through  the  thick  darkness  ;  while  from  the 
midst  of  them  proceeded  a  loud,  measured  chant 
which  would  have  killed  Paganini  outright,  broken 
occasionally  by  a  burst  of  sharp  yells.  I  gathered 
the  robe  around  me,  for  the  night  was  cold,  and 
walked  down  to  the  spot.  The  dark  throng  of 
Indians  was  so  dense  that  they  almost  intercepted 
the  light  of  the  flame.     As  I  was  pushing  among 


THE   LOXELY  JOURNEY.  319 

them  with  but  little  ceremony,  a  chief  interposed 
himself,  and  I  was  given  to  understand  that  a  white 
man  must  not  approach  the  scene  of  their  solemni- 
ties too  closely.  By  passing  around  to  the  other  side 
where  there  was  a  little  opening  in  the  crowd,  1 
could  see  clearly  what  was  going  forward  without 
intruding  my  unhallowed  presence  into  the  inner 
circle.  The  society  of  the  "Strong  Hearts"  were 
engaged  in  one  of  their  dances.  The  "Strong 
Hearts"  are  a  warlike  association,  comprising  men 
of  both  the  Dahcotah  and  Shienne  nations,  and 
entirely  composed,  or  supposed  to  be  so,  of  young 
braves  of  the  highest  mettle.  Its  fundamental 
principle  is  the  admirable  one  of  never  retreating 
from  any  enterprise  once  commenced.  All  these 
Indian  associations  have  a  tutelary  spirit.  That  of 
the  "  Strong  Hearts  "  is  embodied  in  the  fo.\,  an  ani- 
mal which  white  men  would  hardly  have  selected  for 
a  similar  purpose,  though  his  subtle  and  cautious 
character  agrees  well  enough  with  an  Indian's 
notions  of  what  is  honorable  in  warfare.  The 
dancers  were  circling  round  and  round  the  fire,  each 
figure  brightly  illumined  at  one  moment  by  the 
yellow  light,  and  at  the  next  drawn  in  blackest 
shadow  as  it  passed  between  the  flame  and  the 
spectator.  They  would  imitate  with  the  most  ludi- 
crous exactness  the  motions  and  the  voice  of  their 
sly  patron  the  fox.  Then  a  startling  yell  would  be 
given.  Many  other  warriors  would  leap  into  the 
ring,  and  with  faces  upturned  toward  the  starless 
sky,  they  would  all  stamp,  and  whoop,  and  brandish 
their  weapons  like  so  many  frantic  devils. 

Until  the  next  afternoon  we  were  still  remaining 
with  Bisonette.  My  companion  and  I  with  our 
three  attendants  then  left  his  camp  for  the  Pueblo, 
a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles,  and  we  supposed 
the  journey  would  occupy  about  a  fortnight.     During 


320  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

this  time  we  all  earnestly  hoped  that  we  might  not 
meet  a  single  human  being,  for  should  we  encounter 
any,  they  would  in  all  probabiht)'  be  enemies,  fero- 
cious robbers  and  murderers,  in  whose  eyes  our 
rifles  would  be  our  only  passports.  For  the  first 
t^vo  days  nothing  worth  mentioning  took  place.  On 
the  third  morning,  however,  an  untoward  incident 
occurred.  We  were  encamped  by  the  side  of  a 
little  brook  in  an  extensive  hollow  of  the  plain. 
Delorier  was  up  long  before  daylight,  and  before 
he  began  to  prepare  breakfast  he  turned  loose  all 
the  horses,  as  in  dut}'  bound.  There  was  a  cold 
mist  clinging  close  to  the  ground,  and  by  the  time 
the  rest  of  us  were  awake  the  animals  were  invisible. 
It  was  only  after  a  long  and  anxious  search  that  we 
could  discover  by  their  tracks  the  direction  they  had 
taken.  They  had  all  set  off  for  Fort  Laramie,  fol- 
lowing the  guidancencrf'a  murinousold  mule,  and 
though  many  of  them  were  hobbled,  they  had 
travelled  three  miles  before  they  could  be  over- 
taken and  driven  back. 

For  the  following  tvvo  or  three  days  we  were  pass- 
ing over  an  arid  desert.  The  only  vegetation  was  a 
few  tufts  of  short  grass,  dried  and  shrivelled  by  the 
heat.  There  was  an  abundance  of  strange  insects 
and  reptiles.  Huge  crickets,  black  and  bottle-green, 
and  wingless  grasshoppers  of  the  most  extravagant 
dimensions,  were  tumbling  about  our  horses'  feet, 
and  hzards  without  number  were  darting  like  light- 
ning among  the  tufts  of  grass.  The  most  curious 
animal,  however,  was  that  commonly  called  the 
horned-frog.  I  caught  one  of  them  and  consigned 
Eim  to  the'  care  of  Delorier,  who  tied  him  up  in  a 
moccason.  About  a  month  after  this  I  examined 
the  prisoner's  condition,  and  finding  him  still  lively 
and  active,  I  provided  him  with  a  cage  of  buffalo- 
hide,  which  was  himg  up  in  the  cart.     In  this  man- 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  32 1 

ner  he  arrived  safely  at  the  settlements.  From 
thence  he  travelled  the  whole  way  to  Boston,  packed 
closely  in  a  trunk,  being  regaled  with  fresh  air  regu- 
larly every  night.  When  he  reached  his  destina- 
tion he  was  deposited  under  a  glass  case,  where  he 
sat  for  some  months  in  great  tranquillity  and  com- 
posure, alternately  dilating  and  contracting  his  white 
throat  to  the  admiration  of  his  visitors.  At  length, 
one  morning  about  the  middle  of  winter,  he  gave 
up  the  ghost.  His  death  was  attributed  to  starva- 
tion, a  ven.-  probable  conclusion,  since  for  six 
months  he  had  taken  no  food  whatever,  though  the 
sympathy  of  his  juvenile  admirers  had  tempted  his 
palate  with  a  great  variety  of  delicacies.  We  found 
also  animals  of  a  somewhat  larger  growth.  The 
number  of  prairie-dogs  was  absolutely  astounding. 
Frequently  the  hard  and  dr)-  prairie  would  be  thickly 
covered,  for  many  miles  together,  with  the  little 
mounds  which  they  make  around  the  mouth  of  their 
burrows,  and  small  squeaking  voices  yelping  at  us 
as  we  passed  along.  The  noses  of  the  inhabitants 
would  be  just  visible  at  the  mouth  of  their  holes, 
but  no  sooner  was  their  curiosity  satisfied  than  they 
would  instantly  vanish.  Some  of  the  bolder  dogs — 
though,  in  fact,  they  are  no  dogs  at  all — but  little 
marmots,  rather  smaller  than  a  rabbit — would  sit 
yelping  at  us  on  the  top  of  their  mounds,  jerking 
their  tails  emphatically  with  ever}'  shrill  cr)^  they 
uttered.  As  the  danger  drew  nearer  they  would 
wheel  about,  toss  their  heels  into  the  air,  and  dive 
in  a  twinkling  down  into  their  burrows.  Toward 
sunset,  and  especially  if  rain  were  threatening,  the 
whole  community  would  make  their  appearance 
above  ground.  \\'e  would  see  them  gathered  in 
large  knots  around  the  burrow  of  some  favorite  citi- 
zen. There  they  would  all  sit  erect,  their  tails 
spread  out  on  the  ground,  and  their  paws  hanging 
21 


322  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

down  before  their  white  breasts,  chattering  and 
squeaking  wvCa.  the  utmost  vivacity  upon  some  topic 
of  common  interest,  while  the  proprietor  of  the  bur- 
row, with  his  head  just  visible  on  the  top  of  his 
mound,  would  sit  looking  down  with  a  complacent 
countenance  on  the  enjoyment  of  his  guests.  Mean- 
while, others  would  be  running  about  from  burrow  to 
burrow,  as  if  on  some  errand  of  the  last  importance 
to  their  subterranean  commonwealth.  The  snakes 
are  apparently  the  prairie-dog's  worst  enemies  ;  at 
least,  1  think  too  well  of  the  latter  to  suppose  that  they 
associate  on  friendly  terms  with  these  slimy  intrud- 
ers, who  may  be  seen  at  all  times  basking  among 
their  holes,  into  which  they  always  retreat  when  dis- 
turbed. Small  owls,  with  wise  and  grave  counte- 
nances, also  make  their  abode  with  the  prairie-dogs, 
though  on  what  terms  they  live  together  I  could 
never  ascertain.  The  manners  and  customs,  the 
political  and  domestic  economy  of  these  little  mar- 
mots are  worthy  of  closer  attention  than  one  is  able 
to  give  when  pushing  by  forced  marches  through 
their  country,  with  his  thoughts  engrossed  by  objects 
of  greater  moment. 

On  the  fifth  day  after  leaving  Bisonette"  s  camp  we 
saw,  late  in  the  afternoon,  what  we  supposed  to  be 
a  considerable  stream,  but,  on  our  approaching.it, 
we  found  to  our  mortification  nothing  but  a  dr)-  bed 
of  sand,  into  which  all  the  water  had  sunk  and  dis- 
appeared. We  separated,  some  riding  in  one  di- 
rection and  some  in  another,  along  its  course.  Still, 
we  found  no  traces  of  water,  not  even  so  much  as  a 
wet  spot  in  the  sand.  The  old  cotton-wood  trees 
that  grew  along  the  bank,  lamentably  abused  by 
lightning  and  tempest,  were  withering  with  the 
drought,  and  on  the  dead  limbs,  at  the  summit  of  the 
tallest,  half  a  dozen  crows  were  hoarsely  cawing, 
like  birds  of  evil  omen,  as  they  were.     We  had  no 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  323 

alternative  but  to  keep  on.  There  was  no  water 
nearer  than  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte,  about  ten 
miles  distant.  We  moved  forward,  angry  and 
silent,  over  a  desert  as  flat  as  the  outspread  ocean. 

The  sky  had  been  obscured  since  the  morning  by 
thin  mists  and  vapors,  but  now  vast  piles  of  clouds 
were  gathered  together  in  the  west.  They  rose  to  a 
great  height  above  the  horizon,  and  looking  up 
toward  them,  I  distinguished  one  mass  darker  than 
the  rest,  and  of  a  peculiar  conical  form.  I  hap- 
pened to  look  again,  and  still  could  see  it  as  before. 
At  some  moments  it  was  dimly  seen,  at  others  its 
outline  was  sharp  and  distinct  ;  but  while  the  clouds 
around  it  were  shifting,  changing,  and  dissolving 
away,  it  still  towered  aloft  in  the  midst  of  them, 
fixed  and  immovable.  It  must,  thought  1,  be  the 
summit  of  a  mountain  ;  and  yet  its  height  staggered 
me.  My  conclusion  was  right,  however.  It  was 
Long's  Peak,  once  believed  to  be  one  of  the  high- 
est of  the  Rocky  Mountain  chain,  though  more 
recent  discoveries  have  proved  the  contrary.  The 
thickening  gloom  soon  hid  it  from  view,  and  we 
never  saw  it  again,  for  on  the  following  day,  and 
for  some  time  after,  the  air  was  so  full  of  mist  that 
the  view  of  distant  objects  was  entirely  intercepted. 

It  grew  very  late.  Turning  from  our  direct 
course,  we  made  for  the  river  at  its  nearest  point, 
though  in  the  utter  darkness  it  was  not  easy  to  di- 
rect our  way  with  much  precision.  Raymond  rode 
on  one  side  and  Henry  on  the  other.  We  could 
hear  each  of  them  shouting  that  he  had  come  upon 
a  deep  ravine.  We  steered  at  random  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  soon  after  became,  as  it 
seemed,  inextricably  involved  with  deep  chasms  all 
around  us,  while  the  darkness  was  such  that  we 
could  not  see  a  rod  in  any  direction.  We  partially 
extricated   ourselves  by  scrambling,    cart  and  all, 


324  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

througii  a  shallow  ravine.  We  came  next  to  a  steep 
descent,  down  which  we  plunged  without  well  know- 
in£^  what  was  at  the  bottom.  There  was  a  great 
cracking  <rf  sticks  and  dry  tw%s.  Cher  our  heads 
were  certain  large  shadowy  objects  ;  and  in  front 
scnnething  like  the  fiiint  gieaxning  of  a  dark  sheet 
of  water.  Raymond  ran  his  horse  against  a  tree  ; 
Henry  alighted,  and  feeUng  on  the  ground,  declared 
that  there  was  grass  enough  for  the  horses.  Before 
takii^  off  his  saddle,  each  man  led  his  own  horses 
down  to  the  water  in  the  best  n^ay  he  could.  Then 
picketing  two  or  three  of  die  evil-di^>osed,  we 
turned  the  rest  loose,  and  lay  down  among  the  dry 
sticks  to  sleqp.  In  the  morning  we  found  ourselves 
close  to  the  South  Fork  of  the  Hatte,  on  a  spot  sur- 
nmnded  by  bu^es  and  rank  grass.  Compensating 
ourselves  with  a  hearty  breakfast  for  the  ill  fare  of 
the  previous  night,  we  set  forward  again  on  our 
journey.  When  only  two  or  three  rods  from  the 
camp  I  saw  Shaw  stop  his  mule,  level  his  gun,  and 
afier  a  long  aim  fire  at  some  object  in  the  grass. 
Delorio-  next  jumped  forward,  and  b^[an  to  dance 
about,  bdaboring  Ae  unseen  enemy  ^nth  a  whip. 
Then  he  stooped  down,  and  drew  out  of  the  grass 
by  the  neck  an  encmnous  rattlesnake,  with  his  head 
ccHnpIefsdy  shattered  by  Shaw's  bulleL  As  Del  oner 
held  him  out  at  arm's  length  with  an  exulting  grin, 
his  tail,  which  still  kept  slowly  writhing  about,  almost 
touched  the  ground ;  and  the  body  in  the  largest 
part  was  as  diick  as  a  stout  man's  arm.  He  had 
fourteen  rattles,  but  the  end  of  his  tail  was  blunted, 
as  if  he  could  once  have  boasted  of  many  more. 
From  tlus  time  tfll  we  reached  the  Pueblo,  we  killed 
at  least  four  or  five  of  these  snakes  eveiT,-  day.  as 
diey  lay  coiled  and  rattling  on  the  hot  sand.  Shaw 
was  the  Saint  Patrick  of  the  part\-,  and  whenever 
he  or  anyone  else  killed  a  snake  he  always  pulled 


THE   LOXELY  JOURNEY.  325 

oflF  its  tail  and  stored  it  away  in  his  bullet-pouch, 
which  was  soon  crammed  with  an  edifying  collec- 
tion of  rattles,  great  and  small.  Delorier  with  his 
whip  also  came  in  for  a  share  of  the  praise.  A  day 
or  two  after  this  he  triumphantly  produced  a  small 
snake  about  a  span  and  a  half  long,  with  one  infant 
rattle  at  the  end  of  its  tail. 

We  forded  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte.  On  its 
farther  bank  were  the  traces  of  a  ver)'  large  camp 
of  Arapahoes.  The  ashes  of  some  three  hundred 
fires  were  visible  among  the  scattered  trees,  together 
with  the  remains  of  sweating  lodges,  and  all  the 
other  appurtenances  of  a  permanent  camp.  The 
place,  however,  had  been  for  some  months  deserted. 
A  few  miles  farther  on  we  found  more  recent  signs 
of  Indians  ;  the  trail  of  two  or  three  lodges,  which 
had  evidently  passed  the  day  before,  where  every 
footprint  was  perfectly  distinct  in  the  dry,  dusty  soil. 
We  noticed  in  particular  the  track  of  one  moccason, 
upon  the  sole  of  which  its  economical  proprietor 
had  placed  a  large  patch.  These  signs  gave  us  but 
little  uneasiness,  as  the  number  of  the  warriors 
scarcely  exceeded  that  of  our  own  party.  At  noon 
we  rested  under  the  walls  of  a  large  fort,  built  in 
these  solitudes  some  years  since  by  M.  St.  Vrain. 
It  was  now  abandoned  and  fast  falling  into  ruin. 
The  walls  of  unbaked  bricks  were  cracked  from  top 
to  bottom.  Our  horses  recoiled  in  terror  from  the 
neglected  entrance,  where  the  heavy  gates  were  torn 
from  their  hinges  and  flung  down.  The  area  within 
was  overgrown  with  weeds,  and  the  long  ranges  of 
apartments  once  occupied  by  the  motley  concourse 
of  traders,  Canadians,  and  squaws,  were  now 
miserably  dilapidated.  Twelve  miles  farther  on, 
near  the  spot  where  we  encamped,  were  the  remains 
of  still  another  fort,  standing  in  melancholy  deser- 
tion and  neglect. 


326  THE    OREGOy  TRAIL. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  we  made  a  start- 
ling discovery.  We  passed  close  by  a  large  deserted 
encampment  of  Arapahoes.  There  were  about  fifty 
fires  still  smouldering  on  the  ground,  and  it  was 
evident  from  numerous  signs  that  the  Indians  must 
have  left  the  place  within  two  hours  of  our  reaching 
it.  Their  trail  crossed  our  own  at  right  angles, 
and  led  in  the  direction  of  a  line  of  hills,  half  a 
mile  on  our  left.  There  were  women  and  children 
in  the  part)",  which  would  have  greatly  diminished 
the  danger  of  encountering  them.  Henry  Chatillon 
examined  the  encampment  and  the  trail  with  a  very 
professional  and  business-like  air. 

"  Supposing  we  had  met  them,  Henr}-  ?"  said  I. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "we  hold  out  our  hands  to 
them,  and  give  them  all  we've  got ;  they  take  away 
ever\-thing,  and  then  I  believe  they  no  kill  us. 
Perhaps,"  added  he,  looking  up  with  a  quiet  un- 
changed face,  "perhaps  we  no  let  them  rob  us. 
Maybe  before  they  come  near,  we  have  a  chance  to 
get  into  a  ravine,  or  under  the  bank  of  the  river  ; 
then,  you  know,  we  fight  them." 

About  noon  on  that  day  we  reached  Cherr\-  Creek. 
Here  was  a  great  abundance  of  wild-cherries,  plums, 
gooseberries,  and  currants.  The  stream,  however, 
like  most  of  the  others  which  we  passed,  was  dried 
up  with  the  heat,  and  we  had  to  dig  holes  in  the; 
sand  to  find  water  for  ourselves  and  our  horses. 
Two  days  after  we  left  the  banks  of  the  creek  which 
we  had  been  following  for  some  time,  and  began  to 
cross  the  high  dividing  ridge  which  separates  the 
waters  of  the  Platte  from  thosS  of  the  Arkansas. 
The  scener\'  was  altogether  changed.  In  place  of 
the  burning  plains,  we  were  passing  now  through 
rough  and  savage  glens,  and  among  hills  crowned 
with  a  drear\-  growth  of  pines.  We  encamped 
among  these  solitudes  on  the  night  of  the  sixteenth 


THE   L  ONEL  V  JOURNE  Y.  327 

of  August.  A  tempest  was  threatening.  The  sun 
went  down  among  volumes  of  jet-black  clouds, 
edged  with  a  bloody  red.  But  in  spite  of  these 
portentous  signs  we  neglected  to  put  up  the  tent, 
and  being  extremely  fatigued,  lay  down  on  the  ground 
and  fell  asleep.  The  storm  broke  about  midnight, 
and  we  erected  the  tent  amid  darkness  and  confusion. 
In  the  morning  all  was  fair  again,  and  Pike's  Peak, 
white  with  snow,  was  towering  above  the  wilderness 
afar  off. 

We  pushed  through  an  extensive  tract  of  pine 
woods.  I^rge  black  squirrels  were  leaping  among 
the  branches.  From  the  farther  edge  of  this  forest 
we  saw  the  prairie  again,  hollowed  out  before  us 
into  a  vast  basin,  and  about  a  mile  in  front  we  could 
discern  a  little  black  speck  moving  upon  its  surface. 
It  could  be  nothing  but  a  buffalo.  Henry  primed 
his  rifle  afresh  and  galloped  forward.  To  the  left 
of  the  animal  was  a  low  rocky  mound,  of  which 
Henr)'^  availed  himself  in  making  his  approach. 
After  a  short  time  we  heard  the  faint  report  of  the 
rifle.  The  bull,  mortally  wounded  from  a  distance 
of  nearly  three  hundred  yards,  ran  wildly  round  and 
round  in  a  circle.  Shaw  and  1  then  galloped  for- 
ward, and  passing  him  as  he  ran  foaming  with  rage 
and  pain,  we  discharged  our  pistols  into  his  side. 
Once  or  twice  he  rushed  furiously  upon  us,  but  his 
strength  was  rapidly  exhausted.  Down  he  fell  on 
'his  knees.  For  one  instant  he  glared  up  at  his 
enemies,  with  burning  eyes,  through  his  black 
tangled  mane,  and  then  rolled  over  on  his  side. 
Though  gaunt  an^  thin,  he  was  larger  and  heavier 
than  the  largest  ox.  Foam  and  blood  flew  together 
from  his  nostrils  as  he  lay  bellowing  and  pawing  the 
ground,  tearing  up  grass  and  earth  with  his  hoofs. 
His  sides  rose  and  fell  like  a  vast  pair  of  bellows, 
the  blood  spouting  up  in  jets  from  the  bullet-holes. 


328  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Suddenl)'  his  glaring  eyes  became  like  a  lifeless 
jelly.  He  lay  motionless  on  the  ground.  Henry 
stooped  over  him,  and  making  an  incision  ■with  his 
knife,  pronounced  the  meat  too  rank  and  tough  for 
use  ;  so,  disappointed  in  our  hopes  of  an  addition 
to  our  stock  of  pro\"isions,  we  rode  away  and  left 
the  carcass  to  the  wolves. 

In  the  afternoon  we  saw  the  mountains  rising  like 
a  gigantic  wall  at  no  great  distance  on  our  right. 
''  Dcs  sauvages  .'  des  sanvages  '  "^  e.xclaimed  Delo- 
rier,  looking  around  -with  a  frightened  face,  and  point- 
ing with  his  whip  toward  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 
In  fact,  we  could  see  at  a  distance  a  number  of  httle 
black  specks,  like  horsemen  in  rapid  motion.  Henry 
Chatillon.  with  Shaw  and  myself,  galloped  toward 
them  to  reconnoitre,  when,  to  our  amusement,  we 
saw  the  supposed  Arapahoes  resolved  into  the  black 
tops  of  some  pine  trees  which  grew  along  a  ra^^ne. 
The  summits  of  these  pines,  just  visible  above  the 
verge  of  the  prairie,  and  seeming  to  move  as  we 
ourselves  were  advancing,  looked  exactiy  like  a  Une 
of  horsemen. 

We  encamped  among  ra\'ines  and  hollows,  through 
which  a  littie  brook  was  foaming  angrily.  Before 
sunrise  in  the  morning  the  snow-covered  mountains 
were  beautifully  tinged  with  a  delicate  rose  color. 
A  noble  spectacle  awaited  us  as  we  moved  forward. 
Six  or  eight  miles  on  our  right,  Pike's  Peak  and  his 
giant  brethren  rose  out  of  the  level  prairie,  as  if 
springing  from  the  bed  of  the  ocean.  From  their 
summits  down  to  the  plain  below  they  were  in- 
volved in  a  mantle  of  clouds,  in  restless  motion,  as 
if  urged  by  strong  winds.  For  one  instant  some 
snowy  peak,  towering  in  awful  solitude,  would  be 
disclosed  to  view.  As  the  clouds  broke  along  the 
mountain,  we  could  see  the  drean,-  forests,  the  tre- 
mendous precipices,  the  white  patches  of  snow,  the 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  329 

gulfs  and  chasms  as  black  as  night,  all  revealed 
for  an  instant,  and  then  disappearing  from  the 
view.  One  could  not  but  recall  the  stanza  of 
Childe  Harold  : 

"  Morn  dawns,  and  with  it  stern  Albania's  bills. 
Dark  Soli's  rocks,  and  Pindus'  inland  peak, 
Robed  half  in  mist,  bedewed  with  snowy  rills, 
Array'd  in  many  a  dun  and  purple  streak. 
Arise;  and,  as  the  clouds  along  them  break. 
Disclose  the  dwelling  of  the  mountaineer  : 
Here  roams  the  wolf,  the  eagle  whets  his  beak. 
Birds,  beasts  of  prey,  and  wilder  men  appear. 

And  gathering  storms  around  convulse  the  closing  year." 

Every  line  save  one  of  this  description  was  more 
than  verified  here.  There  were  no  "dwellings  of 
the  mountaineer"  among  these  heights.  Fierce 
savages,  restlessly  wandering  through  summer  and 
winter,  alone  invade  them.  "Their  hand  is 
against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand  against 
them." 

On  the  day  after  we  had  left  the  mountains  at 
some  distance.  A  black  cloud  descended  upon 
them,  and  a  tremendous  explosion  of  thunder  fol- 
lowed, reverberating  among  the  precipices.  In  a 
few  moments  everything  grew  black,  and  the  rain 
poured  down  like  a  cataract.  We  got  under  an  old 
cotton-wood  tree,  which  stood  by  the  side  of  a 
stream,  and  waited  there  till  the  rage  of  the  torrent 
had  passed. 

The  clouds  opened  at  the  point  where  they  first 
had  gathered,  and  the  whole  sublime  congregation 
of  mountains  was  bathed  at  once  in  warm  sun- 
shine. They  seemed  more  like  some  luxurious 
vision  of  eastern  romance  than  like  a  reality  of  that 
wilderness  ;  all  were  melted  together  into  a  soft 
delicious  blue,  as  voluptuous  as  the  sky  of  Naples 
or  the  transparent  sea  that  washes  the  sunny  cliffs 


330  THE    OREGOX  TRAIL. 

of  Capri.  On  the  left  the  whole  sky  was  still  of  an 
inky  blackness  ;  but  two  concentric  rainbows  stood 
in  brilliant  relirf  against  it,  while  £ar  in  front  the 
ragged  cloud  still  streamed  before  the  wind,  and  the 
r^ieating  thunder  muttered  angrily. 

Through  that  afternoon  and  die  next  morning  we 
were  passing  down  the  banks  of  the  stream  called 
"  La  Fontaine  qui  Bouille,"  from  the  boiling  spring 
whose  waters  flow  into  it.  When  we  stopped  at 
noon  we  were  within  ax  or  eight  miles  of  the 
Pueblo.  Setting  out  again,  we  found  by  the  fresh 
tracks  that  a  horseman  had  just  been  out  to  recon- 
noitre us  ;  he  had  circled  half  round  the  camp,  and 
then  gallc^ied  back  fiill  speed  for  the  Pueblo.  \Miat 
made  him  so  shy  of  us  we  could  not  conceive.  After 
an  hour's  ride  we  reached  the  edge  of  a  hill,  from 
which  a  welcome  saght  greeted  us.  The  Arkansas 
lan  along  tiie  ralley  below,  among  woods  and 
groves,  and  closely  nesded  in  the  midst  of  wide 
corn-fields  and  green  meadows,  where  cattle  were 
glaring,  rose  the  low  mud  walls  of  the  Pueblo. 


CIL\PTER    XXI. 

THE   PUEBLO   A2ifD   BEKT'S    FORT. 

"  It  came  to  pass^  that  wiien  he  did  address 

Himself  to  quit  at  length  this  moTintain  land. 
Combined  mara-nders  half-way  barred  egress, 

.■Vnd  wasted  far  and  near  ■»nth  glaive  and  brand." 
Childe  Harold. 

We  approached  the  gate  of  the  Pueblo.  It  was  a 
wretched  sf>ecies  of  fort,  of  most  primitive  con- 
struction, being  nothing  more  than  a  large  square 
ii»^losure,  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  mud,  miserably 


THE   PUEBLO  AXD   BEXT'S  FORT.    33 1 

cracked  and  dilapidated.  The  slender  pickets  that 
surmounted  it  were  half-broken  down,  and  the  gate 
dangled  on  its  wooden  hinges  so  loosely  that  to 
open  or  shut  it  seemed  likely  to  fling  it  down  alto- 
gether. Two  or  three  squahd  Mexicans,  with  their 
brdadhats,  and  their  vile  faces  overgrown  with  hair. 
were  lounging  about  the  bank  of  the  river  in  front  of  it. 
They  disappeared  as  they  saw  us  approach  ;  and  as 
we  rode  up  to  the  gate,  a  light,  active,  little  figure 
came  out  to  meet  us.  It  was  our  old  friend  Richard. 
He  had  come  from  Fort  Laramie  on  a  trading  expe- 
dition to  Taos  ;  but  finding  when  he  reached  the 
Pueblo  that  the  war  would  prevent  his  going  farther, 
he  was  quietly  waiting  till  the  conquest  of  the  coun- 
try should  allow  him  to  proceed.  He  seemed  to 
consider  himself  bound  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
place.  Shaking  us  warmly  by  the  hand,  he  led  the 
way  into  the  area. 

Here  we  saw  his  large  Santa  Fe  wagons  standing 
together.  A  few  squaws  and  Spanish  women,  and 
a  few  Mexicans,  as  mean  and  miserable  as  the  place 
itself,  were  lazily  sauntering  about.  Richard  con- 
ducted us  to  the  state  apartment  of  the  Pueblo.  A 
small  mud  room,  ver)-.  neatly  finished,  considering 
the  material,  and  garnished  with  a  crucifix,  a  look- 
ing-glass, a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  and  a  rusty  horse- 
pistol.  There  were  no  chairs,  but  instead  of  them 
a  number  of  chests  and  boxes  ranged  about  the 
room.  There  was  another  room  beyond,  less 
sumptuously  decorated,  and  here  three  or  four 
Spanish  girls,  one  of  them  very  pretty,  were  baking 
cakes  at  a  mud  fireplace  in  the  comer.  They 
brought  out  a  poncho,  which  they  spread  upon  the 
floor  by  way  of  table-cloth.  A  supper,  which 
seemed  to  us  luxurious,  was  soon  laid  out  upon  it, 
and  folded  buffalo-robes  were  placed  around  it  to 
receive  the  guests.     Two  or  three  Americans  besides 


332  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

ourselves  were  present.  We  sat  down  Turkish 
fashion,  and  began  to  inquire  the  news.  Richard 
told  us  that  about  three  weeks  before  General  Kear- 
ney's army  had  left  Bent's  Fort  to  march  against 
Santa  Fe  :  that  when  last  heard  from  they  were 
approaching  the  naountainous  defiles  that  led  to  the 
city .  One  of  the  Americans  produced  a  dingj-  news- 
paper containing  an  account  di  the  battles  cX.  Palo 
Alto  and  Resaca  de  la  Palma.  WTiile  we  were  dis- 
cussing these  matters,  the  doorway  was  darkened 
by  a  tall,  shambling  fellow,  who  stood  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  taking  a  losurely  surre^'  dL  the 
premises  before  he  entered.  He  wore  brown  home- 
spun pantaloons,  much  too  short  for  his  legs,  and  a 
pistol  and  ^Bowie-knife  stuck  in  his  beh.  His  head 
and  one  eye  were  enveloped  in  a  huge  bandage  oi 
white  linen.  Having  completed  his  obsen-ations. 
he  came  slouching  in,  and  sat  down  on  a  chesL 
Eight  or  ten  more  of  the  same  stamp  followed,  and, 
ver\-  coolly  arranging  themselves  about  the  rocnn, 
began  to  stare  at  the  company.  Shaw  and  I  locked 
at  each  other.  We  were  forcibly  reminded  <rf  the 
Oregon  emigrants,  though  these  unwdicome  visitors 
had  a  certain  ghtter  of  the  eye.  and  a  compresaon 
of  the  lips,  which  distinguished  than  from  oar  old 
acquaintances  of  the  prairie.  They  b^an  to  cate- 
chise us  at  once,  inqmring  whence  we  had  come. 
what  we  meant  to  do  next,  and  what  were  our  fiiture 
prospects  in  life. 

The  man  ■with  the  bandaged  head  had  met  with  an 
untoward  accident  a  few  da^'s  brfore.  He  was  gvnng 
down  to  the  river  to  bring  water,  and  was  pushing 
through  the  young  willows  which  covered  the  low 
ground,  when  he  came  unawares  upon  a  grizzly 
bear,  which  haA-ing  just  eaten  a  bn&lo-bull,  had 
Iain  do-ivn  to  sleep  off  the  meaL  The  bear  rose  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  gave  the  intruder  such  a  blow 


THE   PUEBLO  AND   BENT'S  FORT.    333 

with  his  paw  that  he  laid  his  forehead  entirely  bare, 
clawed  off  the  front  of  his  scalp,  and  narrowly  missed 
one  of  his  eyes.  Fortunately  he  was  not  in  a  very 
pugnacious  mood,  being  surfeited  with  his  late  meal. 
The  man's  companions,  who  were  close  behind, 
raised  a  shout,  -and  the  bear  walked  away,  crushing 
down  the  willows  in  his  leisurely  retreat. 

These  men  belonged  to  a  party  of  Mormons,  who-,— — j 
out  of  a  well-grounded  fear  of  the  other  emigrants,  \ 
had  postponed  leaving  the  settlements  until  all  the 
rest  were  gone.  On  account  of  this  delay  they  did 
not  reach  Fort  Laramie  until  it  was  too  late  to  con- 
tinue their  journey  to  California.  Hearing  that  there 
was  good  land  at  the  head  of  the  Arkansas,  they 
crossed  over  under  the  guidance  of  Richard,  and 
were  now  preparing  to  spend  the  winter  at  a  spot 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  Pueblo. 

When  we  took  leave  of  Richard  it  was  near  sun- 
set. Passing  out  of  the  gate,  we  could  look  down 
the  little  valley  of  the  Arkansas  ;  a  beautiful  scene, 
and  doubly  so  to  our  eyes,  so  long  accustomed  to 
deserts  and  mountains.  Tall  woods  lined  the  river, 
with  green  meadows  on  either  hand  ;  and  high  bluffs, 
quietly  basking  in  the  sunlight,  flanked  the  narrow 
valley.  A  Mexican  on  horseback  was  driving  a 
herd  of  cattle  toward  the  gate,  and  our  little  white 
tent,  which  the  men  had  pitched  under  a  large  tree 
in  the  meadow,  made  a  very  pleasing  feature  in  the 
scene.  When  we  reached  it,  we  found  that  Richard 
had  sent  a  Mexican  to  bring  us  an  abundant  supply 
of  green  com  and  vegetables,  and  invite  us  to  help 
ourselves  to  whatever  we  wished  from  the  fields 
around  the  Pueblo. 

The  inhabitants  were  in  daily  apprehension  of  an 
inroad  from  more  formidable  consumers  than  our- 
selves. Every  year,  at  the  time  when  the  com 
begins  to  ripen,  the  Arapahoes,  to  the  number  of 


334  "^HE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

several  thousands,  come  and  encamp  around  the 
Pueblo.  The  handful  of  white  men,  who  are  en- 
tirely at  the  mercy  of  this  swarm  of  barbarians, 
choose  to  make  a  merit  of  necessity  ;  they  come  for- 
ward ven.-  cordially,  shake  them  by  the  hand,  and 
intimate  that  the  harvest  is  entirely  at  tneir  disposal. 
The  Arapahoes  take  them  at  their  word,  help  them- 
selves most  liberally,  and  usually  turn  their  horses 
into  the  cornfields  afterward.  They  have  the  fore- 
sight, however,  to  leave  enough  of  the  crops  un- 
touched to  serv^e  as  an  inducement  for  planting  the 
fields  again  for  their  benefit  in  the  next  spring. 

The  human  race  in  this  part  of  the  world  is  sepa- 
rated into  three  divisions,  arranged  in  the  orrier  of 
their  merits  :  white  men,  Indians,  and  Mexicans  ;  to 
the  latter  of  whom  the  honorable  title  of  "  whites  " 
is  by  no  means  conceded. 

In  spite  of  the  warm  sunset  of  that  evening,  the 
next  morning  was  a  dreary  and  cheerless  one.  It 
rained  steadily,  clouds  resting  upon  the  ver}-  tree- 
tops.  We  crossed  the  river  to  visit  the  IMormon 
settlement.  As  we  passed  through  the" water, -sev- 
eral trappers  on  horseback  entered  it  from  the  other 
side.  Their  buckskin  frocks  were  soaked  through 
by  the  rain,  and  clung  fast  to  their  hmbs  with  a 
most  clammy  and  uncomfortable  look.  The  water 
was  trickling  down  their  faces,  and  dropping  from 
the  ends  of  their  rifles  and  from  the  traps  which 
each  carried  at  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  Horses 
and  all,  they  had  a  most  disconsolate  and  woebe- 
gone appearance,  which  we  could  not  help  laughing 
at,  forgetting  how  often  we  ourselves  had  been  in  a 
similar  plight. 

After  half  an  hour's  riding  we  saw  the  white 
wagons  of  the  Mormons  dfaw-n  xrp  -among  the  trees. 
Axes  were  sounding,  trees  were  falling,  and  log-huts 
going  up  along  the  edge  of  the  woods  and  upon  the 


THE  PUEBLO  AXD  BEXT'S  FORT.    335 

adjoining  meadow.  As  we  came  up  tiie  Mormons 
left  their  work  and  seated  themselves  on  the  timber 
around  us,  when  they  began  earnestly  to  discuss 
points  of  theolog}.-,  complain  of  the  ill  usage  they 
had  received  from  the  "Gentiles,"  and  sound  a 
lamentation  over  the  loss  of  their  great  temple  of 
Nauvoo.  After  remaining  with  them  an  hour  we 
rode  back  to  our  camp,  happy  that  the  settlements 
had  been  delivered  from  the  presence  of  such  blind 
and  desperate  fanatics. 

On  the  morning  after  this  we  left  the  Pueblo  for 
Bent's  Fort.  The  conduct  of  Raymond  had  lately 
been  less  satisfactor>-  than  before,  and  we  had  dis- 
charged him  as  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  former 
place  ;  so  that  the  party,  ourselves  included,  was 
now  reduced  to  four.  There  was  some  uncertainty 
as  to  our  future  course.  The  trail  between  Bent's 
Fort  and  the  settlements,  a  distance  computed  at 
six  hundred  miles,  was  at  this  time  in  a  dangerous 
state;  for,  since  the  passage  of  General  Kearney's 
army,  great  numbers  of  hostile  Indians,  chiefly 
Pawnees  and  Comanches,  had  gathered  about  some 
parts  of  it.  A  little  after  this  time  they  became  so 
numerous  and  audacious  that  scarcely  a  single 
part}-,  however  large,  passed  between  the  fort  and 
the  frontier  without  some  token  of  their  hostilit}". 
The  newspapers  of  the  time  sufficiently  display  this 
state  of  things.  Many  men  were  killed,  and  g^eat 
numbers  of  horses  and  mules  carried  off.  Not  long 
since  I  met  with  a  gendeman,  who,  during  the  au- 
tumn, came  from  Santa  Fe  to  Bent's  Fort,  where  he 
found  a  party  of  seventy-  men.  who  thought  them- 
selves too  weak  to  go  down  to  the  settlements  alone, 
and  were  waiting  there  for  a  reinforcement.  Though 
this  excessive  timidity  fully  proves  the  ignorance  and 
credulity-  of  the  men,  it  may  also  evince  the  state  of 
adarm  which  prevailed  in  the  countr)-.     When  we 


X 


336  THE    ORE  G OX  TRAIL. 

were  tliere  in  the  month  of  August  the  danger  had 
not  become  so  great.  There  was  nothing  very 
attractive  in  the  neighborhood.  We  supposed,  more- 
over, that  we  might  wait  there  half  the  winter  with- 
out finding  any  part\-  to  go  down  with  us  ;  for  Mr. 
Sublette  and  the  others  whom  we  had  relied  upon 
had,  as  Richard  told  us,  already  left  Bent's  Fort. 
Thus  far  on  our  journey  fortune  had  kindly  be- 
friended us.  We  resolved,  therefore,  to  take  ad^■an- 
tage  of  her  gracious  mood,  and  trusting  for  a  con- 
tinuance of  her  favors,  to  set  out  -w-ith  Henr\-  and 
Delorier,  and  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  Indians  in  the 
best  way  we  could. 

Bent's  Fort  stands  on  the  river,  about  sevent^•- 
five  miles  bel©w-theJEiaeblQ__At  noon  of  the  third 
day  we  arriAed  within  three  or  four  miles  of  it, 
pitched  our  tent  under  a  tree,  hung  our  looking- 
glasses  against  its  trunk,  and  having  made  our 
primitive  toilet,  rode  toward  the  fort.  We  soon 
came  in  sight  of  it,  for  it  is  visible  from  a  considerable 
distance,  standing  ^nth  its  high  clay  walls  in  the 
midst  of  the  scorching  plains.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
swarm  of  locusts  had  invaded  the  countn,-.  The 
grass  for  miles  around  was  cropped  close  by  the 
horses  of  General  Kearney's  soldier}-.  When  we 
came  to  the  fort  we  found  that  not  only  had  the 
horses  eaten  up  the  grass,  but  their  owners  had 
made  way  with  the  stores  of  the  little  trading-post  ; 
so  that  we  had  grreat  difficult}-  in  procuring  the  few 
articles  which  we  required  for  our  homeward  jour- 
ney. The  army  was  gone,  the  life  and  bustle 
passed  away,  and  the  fort  was  a  scene  of  dull  and 
lazy  tranquillit}-.  A  few  invalid  officers  and  soldiers 
sauntered  about  the  area,  which  was  oppressively 
hot  ;  for  the  glaring  sun  was  reflected  down  upon  it 
from  the  high  white  walls  around.  The  proprietors 
were  absent,  and  we  were  received  bv  Mr.  Holt, 


THE   PUEBLO  AND   BENT'S  FORT.    337 

who  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  fort.  Fie  invited 
us  to  dinner,  where,  to  our  admiration,  we  found  a 
table  laid  with  a  white  cloth,  with  castors  in  the 
centre  and  chairs  placed  around  it.  This  unwonted 
repast  concluded,  we  rode  back  to  our  camp. 

Here,  as  we  lay  smoking  round  the  fire  after 
supper,  we  saw  through  the  dusk  three  men  ap- 
proaching from  the  direction  of  the  fort.  They 
rode  up  and  seated  themselves  near  us  on  the 
ground.  The  foremost  was  a  tall,  well-formed  man, 
with  a  face  and  manner  such  as  inspire  confidence 
at  once.  He  wore  a  broad  hat  of  felt,  slouching 
and  tattered,  and  the  rest  of  his  attire  consisted  of  a 
frock  and  leggings  of  buckskin,  rubbed  with  the 
yellow  clay  found  among  the  mountains.  At  the 
heel  of  one  of  his  moccasons  was  buckled  a  huge 
iron  spur,  with  a  rowel  five  or  six  inches  in  diame- 
ter. His  horse,  who  stood  quietly  looking  over  his 
head,  had  a  rude  Mexican  saddle,  covered  with  a 
shaggy  bear-skin,  and  furnished  with  a  pair  of 
wooden  stirrups  of  most  preposterous  size.  The 
next  man  was  a  sprightly,  active  little  fellow,  about 
five  feet  and  a  quarter  high,  but  very  strong  and 
compact.  His  face  was  swarthy  as  a  Mexican's, 
and  covered  with  a  close,  curly,  black  beard.  An 
old,  greasy  calico  handkerchief  was  tied  round  his 
head,  and  his  close  buckskin  dress  was  blackened 
and  polished  by  grease  and  hard  service.  The  last 
who  came  up  was  a  large,  strong  man,  dressed  in 
the  coarse  homespun  of  the  frontiers,  who  dragged 
his  long  limbs  over  the  ground  as  if  he  were  too 
lazy  for  the  effort.  He  had  a  sleepy  gray  eye,  a 
retreating  chin,  an  open  mouth,  and  a  protruding 
upper  lip,  which  gave  him  an  air  of  exquisite  indo- 
lence and  helplessness.  He  was  armed  with  an 
old  United  States  yager,  which  redoubtable  weapon, 
though  he  could  never  hit  his  mark  with  it,  he  was 


338  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

accustomed  to  cherish  as  the  ver\-  sovereign  of  fire- 
arms. 

The  first  two  men  belonged  to  a  part}^  who  had 
just  came  from  California,  with  a  large  band  of 
hoises,  which  the}-  had  disposed  of  at  Bent's  Fort. 
Munroe,  the  taller  of  the  two,  was  from  Iowa.  He 
was  an  excellent  fellow,  open,  warm-hearted,  and 
intffffigent.  Jim  Gumey,  the  short  man,  was"  a  Bos- 
fioii  sa2or,  who  had  come  in  a  trading-vessel  to 
California,  and  taken  the  fancy  to  retiim  across  the 
continent.  The  jomuey  had  already  made  him  an 
expert  "mountain  man,"  and  he  presented  the 
extraordinary  phenomenon  of  a  sailor  who  under- 
stood how  to  manage  a  horse.  The  third  of  our 
visitors,  named  Ellis,  was  a  Missourian,  who  had 
cone  oat  with  a  party  of  Oregon  emigrants,  but 
having-  got  as  far  as  Bridge's  Fort,  he  had  fallen 
home-sick,  or  as  Jim  averred,  love-sick — and  Ellis 
was  just  the  man  to  be  balked  in  a  lo^•e  adventure. 
He  thought  proper,  therefore,  to  join  the  Cahfomia 
men,  and  return  homeward  in  their  company. 

They  now  requested  that  they  might  unite  with 
oorpaity,  and  make  the  journey  to  the  settlements 
in  company  with  us.  We  readily  assented,  for  we 
Eked  the  ^[^eaiance  of  the  first  two  men,  and  were 
very  g^ad  to  gain  so  efficient  a  reinforcement.  We 
tx^  them  to  meet  us  on  the  next  evening  at  a  spot 
on  the  liver  side,  about  six  miles  below  the  fort. 
Having  san<^ed  a  pipe  together,  our  new  allies  left 
us,  and  we  lay  down  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

tSte  rouge,  the  volunteer. 

"  Ah  me  !  what  evils  do  environ 
The  man  that  meddles  with  cold  iron." 

HUDIBRAS. 

The  next  morning,  having  directed  Delorier  to 
repair  with  his  cart  to  the  place  of  meeting,  we  came 
again  to  the  fort  to  make  some  arrangements  for 
the  journey.  After  completing  these,  we  sat  down 
under  a  sort  of  porch,  to  smoke  with  some  Shienne 
Indians  whom  we  found  there.  In  a  few  minutes 
we  saw  an  extraordinary  little  figure  approach  us 
in  a  military  dress.  He  had  a  small,  round  coun- 
tenance, garnished  about  the  eyes  with  the  kind  of 
wrinkles  commonly  known  as  crow's  feet,  and  sur- 
mounted by  an  abundant  crop  of  red  curls,  with  a 
little  cap  resting  on  the  top  of  them.  Altogether, 
he  had  the  look  of  a  man  more  conversant  with 
mint-juleps  and  oyster-suppers  than  with  the  hard- 
ships of  prairie-service.  He  came  up  to  us  and 
entreated  that  we  would  take  him  home  to  the  settle- 
ments, saying  that  unless  he  went  with  us  he  should 
have  to  stay  all  winter  at  the  fort.  We  liked  our 
petitioner's  appearance  so  little  that  we  excused  our- 
selves from  complying  with  his  request.  At  this  he 
begged  us  so  hard  to  take  pity  on  him,  looked  so 
disconsolate,  and  told  so  lamentable  a  story,  that  at 
last  we  consented,  though  not  without  many  mis- 
givings. 

The  rugged  Anglo-Saxon  of  our  new  recruit's  real 
name  proved  utterly  unmanageable  on  the  lips  of 
our  French  attendants,  and  Henrj'  Chatillon,  after 
various  abortive  attempts  to  pronounce  it,  one  day 


340 

cool!; 

red  : 

a  :.:. 

esta": 


'.eers. 

of  us."  said  Tele 
r   i.- d  Joiin  Hof^r 

:  "Jt  with  the  ar: 

::.t  : :  _3try,  we  "r 
ou  knfnr 


T^TE   ROUGE,    THE    VOLUNTEER.    34 1 

above  with  the  glassy  stare  of  a  dead  man.  At  this 
the  unfortunate  volunteer  lost  his  senses  outright. 
In  spite  of  the  doctor,  however,  he  eventually  re- 
covered ;  though  between  the  brain-fever  and  the 
calomel,  his  mind,  originally  none  of  the  strongest, 
was  so  much  shaken  that  it  had  not  quite  recovered 
its  balance  when  we  came  to  the  fort.  In  spite  of 
the  poor  fellow's  tragic  storj-,  there  was  something 
so  ludicrous  in  his  appearance,  and  the  whimsical 
contrast  between  his  military  dress  and  his  most 
unmilitary  demeanor,  that  we  could  not  help  smiling 
at  them.  We  asked  him  if  he  had  a  gun.  He  said 
they  had  taken  it  from  him  during  his  illness,  and 
he  had  not  seen  it  since  ;  but  perhaps,  he  observed, 
looking  at  me  with  a  beseeching  air,  you  will  lend 
me  one  of  your  big  pistols  if  we  should  meet  with 
any  Indians.  I  next  inquired  if  he  had  a  horse  ; 
he  declared  he  had  a  magnificent  one,  and  at 
Shaw's  request,  a  Mexican  led  him  in  for  inspec- 
tion. He  exhibited  the  outline  of  a  good  horse, 
but  his  eyes  were  sunk  in  the  sockets,  and  every 
one  of  his  ribs  could  be  counted.  There  were 
certain  marks,  too,  about  his  shoulders,  which  could 
be  accounted  for  by  the  circumstance  that,  during 
Tete  Rouge's  illness,  his  companions  had  seized 
upon  the  insulted  charger,  and  harnessed  him  to  a 
cannon  along  with  the  draft  horses.  To  Tete 
Rouge's  astonishment,  we  recommended  him  by  all 
means  to  exchange  the  horse,  if  he  could,  for  a 
mule.  Fortunately  the  people  at  the  fort  were  so 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  him  that  they  were  willing  to 
make  some  sacrifice  to  effect  the  object,  and  he 
succeeded  in  getting  a  tolerable  mule  in  exchange 
for  the  broken-down  steed. 

A  man  soon  appeared  at  the  gate,  leading  in  the 
mule  by  a  cord,  which  he  placed  in  the  hands  of 
Tete  Rouge,  who,  being  somewhat  afraid  of  his  new 


342  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

axrquisition,  tried  various  flatteries  and  blandishments 
to  induce  her  to  come  forward.  The  mule,  knowing 
that  she  was  expected  to  advance,  stopped  short  in 
consequence,  and  stood  fast  as  a  rock,  looking 
straight  forward  mth  immovable  composirre.  Being 
stimulated  by  a  blow  from  behind,  she  consented  to 
move,  and  walked  nearly  to  the  other  side  of  the 
fort  before  she  stopf>ed  again.  Hearing  the  by- 
standers laugh,  Tete  Rouge  plucked  up  spirit  and 
tugged  hard  at  the  rope.  The  mule  jerked  back- 
ward, spim  herself  round,  and  made  a  dash  for  the 
gate.  Tete  Rouge,  who  clung  manfiilly  to  the  rope, 
went  whiskii^  through  the  air  for  a  few  rods,  when 
he  let  go  and  stood  with  his  mouth  open,  staring 
after  the  mule,  who  galloped  away  over  the  prairie. 
She  was  soon  caught  and  brought  back  by  a  Mexi- 
can, who  mounted  a  horse  and  went  in  pursuit  of 
her  with  his  lasso. 

Ha\'ing  thus  displayed  his  capacities  for  prairie 
traveUing,  Tete  proceeded  to  supply  himself  with 
pro^^sions  for  the  journey,  and  with  this  view  he 
applied  to  a  quarter-master's  assistant  who  was  in 
the  fort.  This  official  had  a  fiace  as  sour  as  \-inegar, 
being  in  a  state  of  chronic  indignation  because  he 
had  been  left  behind  the  army.  He  was  as  anxious 
as  the  rest  to  get  rid  of  Tete  Rouge.  So,  producing 
a  rust\-  key,  he  opened  a  low  door  which  led  to  a 
half-subterranean  apartment,  into  which  the  two 
disappeared  together.  After  some  time  they  came 
out  again,  Tete  Rouge  greatly  embarrassed  by  a 
multiplicity-  of  paper  parcels  containing  the  different 
articles  of  his  fort>-  days'  rations.  They  were  con- 
signed to  the  care  of  Delorier,  who  about  that  time 
passed  by  with  the  cart  on  his  way  to  the  appointed 
place  of  meeting  with  Munroe  and  his  companions. 

We  next  urged  Tete  Rouge  to  pro\ide  himself,  if 
he  could,  with  a  gun.     He  accordingly  made  earnest 


Ti:TE   ROUGE,    THE    VOLUNTEER.    343 

appeals  to  the  charity  of  various  persons  in  the  fort, 
but  totally  without  success,  a  circumstance  which 
did  not  greatly  disturb  us,  since,  in  the  event  of  a 
skirmish,  he  would  be  much  more  apt  to  do  mis- 
chief to  himself  or  his  friends  than  to  the  enemy. 
When  all  these  arrangements  were  completed  we 
saddled  our  horses,  and  were  preparing  to  leave 
the  fort,  when,  looking  around,  we  discovered,  that 
our  new  associate  was  in  fresh  trouble.  A  man  was 
holding  the  mule  for  him  in  the  middle  of  the  fort, 
while  he  tried  to  put  the  saddle  on  her  back,  but 
she  kept  stepping  sideways  and  moving  round  and 
round  in  a  circle,  until  he  was  almost  in  despair. 
It  required  some  assistance  before  all  his  difficulties 
could  be  overcome.  At  length,  he  clambered  into 
the  black  war-saddle  on  which  he  was  to  have  car- 
ried terror  into  the  ranks  of  the  Mexicans. 

"Get  up  I"  said  Tete  Rouge;  "come  now,  go 
along,  will  you  ?" 

The  mule  v/alked  deliberately  forward  out  of  the 
gate.  Her  recent  conduct  had  inspired  him  with  so 
much  awe  that  he  never  dared  to  touch  her  with  his 
whip.  We  trotted  forward  toward  the  place  of  meet- 
ing, but  before  we  had  gone  far  we  saw  that  Tete 
Rouge's  mule,  who  perfectly  understood  her  rider, 
had  stopped  and  was  quietly  grazing,  in  spite  of  his 
protestations,  at  some  distance  behind.  So,  getting 
behind  him,  we  drove  him  and  the  contumacious 
mule  before  us,  until  we  could  see  through  the  twi- 
light the  gleaming  of  a  distant  fire.  Munroe,  Jim, 
and  Ellis  were  lying  around  it  ;  their  saddles,  packs, 
and  weapons  were  scattered  about  and  their  horses 
picketed  near  them.  Delorier  was  there,  too,  with 
our  little  cart.  Another  fire  was  soon  blazing  high. 
We  invited  our  new  allies  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee 
with  us.  When  both  the  others  had  gone  over  to 
their  side  of  the  camp,  Jim  Gurney  still  stood  by 


344  ^^^    OREGON  TRAIL. 

the  blaze,  puffing  hard  at  his  httle  black  pipe,  as 
short  and  weather-beaten  as  himself. 

"Weill"  he  said,  "here  are  eight  of  us  ;  we'll 
call  it  six — for  them  t^vo  boobies,  Ellis  over  yonder, 
and  that  new  man  of  yours,  won't  count  for  any- 
thing. We'll  get  through  well  enough,  never  fear 
for  that,  unless  the  Comanches  happen  to  get  foul 
of  us." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

INDIAN    ALARMS. 

"  To  all  the  sensual  world  proclaim. 
One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life 
Were  worth  an  age  without  a  name." — ScOTT. 

We  began  our  journey  for  the  frontier  settlements 
on  the  twenty-seventh  of  August,  and  certainly"  a 
more  ragamuffin  cavalcade  never  was  seen  on  the 
banks  of  the  Upper  Arkansas.  Of  the  large  and 
fine  horses  with  which  we  had  left  the  frontier  in  the 
spring,  not  one  remained  :  we  had  supplied  their 
place  with  the  rough  breed  of  the  prairie,  as  hardy 
as  mules  and  almost  as  ugly  ;  we  had  also  with  us 
a  number  of  the  latter  detestable  animals.  In  spite 
of  their  strength  and  hardihood,  several  of  the  band 
were  already  worn  down  by  hard  service  and  hard 
fare,  and  as  none  of  them  were  shod,  they  were  fast 
becoming  foot-sore.  Ever}-  horse  and  mule  had  a 
cord  of  twisted  bull-hide  coiled  around  his  neck, 
which  by  no  means  added  to  the  beaut}'  of  his  ap- 
pearance. Our  saddles  and  all  our  equipments 
were  by  this  time  lamentably  worn  and  battered, 
and  our  weapons  had  become  dull  and  rust}'.  The 
dress    of   the  riders   fully    corresponded    with   the 


INDIAX  ALARMS.  345 

dilapidated  furniture  of  our  horses,  and  of  the  whole 
party  none  made  a  more  disreputable  appearance 
than  my  friend  and  I.  Shaw  had  for  an  upper  gar- 
ment an  old  red  flannel  shirt,  flying  open  in  front, 
and  belted  around  him  hke  a  frock  ;  while  I,  in  ab- 
sence of  other  clothing,  was  attired  in  a  time-worn 
suit  of  leather. 

Thus,  happy  and  careless  as  so  many  beggars, 
we  crept  slowly  from  day  to  day  along  the  monoto- 
nous banks  of  the  Arkansas.  Tete  Rouge  gave 
constant  trouble,  for  he  could  never  catch  his  mule, 
saddle  her,  or,  indeed,  do  anything  else  without 
assistance.  Every  day  he  had  some  new  ailment, 
real  or  imaginar}-,  to  complain  of.  At  one  moment 
he  would  be  woe-begone  and  disconsolate,  and  at 
the  next  he  would  be  visited  with  a  violent  flow  of 
spirits,  to  which  he  could  only  give  vent  by  inces- 
sant laughing,  whistling,  and  telling  stories.  When 
other  resources  failed  we  used  to  amuse  ourselves 
by  tormenting  him  ;  a  fair  compensation  for  the 
trouble  he  cost  us.  Tete  Rouge  rather  enjoyed 
being  laughed  at,  for  he  was  an  odd  compound  of 
weakness,  eccentricity,  and  good  nature.  He  made 
a  figure  worthy  of  a  painter  as  he  paced  along 
before  us,  perched  on  the  back  of  his  mule,  and 
enveloped  in  a  huge  buffalo-robe  coat,  which  some 
charitable  person  had  given  him  at  the  fort.  This 
extraordinan.-  garment,  which  would  have  contained 
two  men  of  his  size,  he  chose,  for  some  reason  best 
known  to  himself,  to  wear  inside  out.  and  he  never 
took  it  off,  even  in  the  hottest  weather.  It  was  flut- 
tering all  over  with  seams  and  tatters,  and  the  hide 
was  so  old  and  rotten  that  it  broke  out  even,-  day  in 
a  new  place.  Just  at  the  top  of  it  a  large  pile  of  red 
curls  was  visible,  with  his  little  cap  set  jauntily  upon 
one  side,  to  give  him  a  militan.-  air.  His  seat  in  the 
saddle  was  no  less  remarkable  than  his  person  and 


346  THE  OREGON  TRAIL. 

equipment.  He  pressed  one  leg  close  against  his 
mule's  side,  and  thrust  the  other  out  at  an  angle  of 
forty-five  degrees.  His  pantaloons  were  decorated 
with  a  military  red  stripe,  of  which  he  was  ex- 
tremely vain  ;  but  being  much  too  short,  the  whole 
length  of  his  boots  was  usually  visible  below  them. 
His  blanket,  loosely  rolled  up  into  a  large  bundle, 
dangled  at  the  back  of  his  saddle,  where  he  carried 
it  tied  with  a  string.  Four  or  five  times  a  day  it 
would  fall  to  the  ground.  Ever>'  few  minutes  he 
would  drop  his  pipe,  his  knife,  his  flint  and  steel,  or 
a  piece  of  tobacco,  and  have  to  scramble  down  to 
pick  them  up.  In  doing  this  he  would  contrive  to 
get  in  everj-body's  way  ;  and  as  the  most  of  the 
party  were  by  no  means  remarkable  for  a  fastidious 
choice  of  language,  a  storm  of  anathemas  would 
be  showered  upon  him,  half  in  earnest  and  half  in 
jest,  until  Tete  Rouge  would  declare  that  there  was 
no  comfort  in  life,  and  that  he  never  saw  such  fel- 
lows before. 

Only  a  day  or  two  after  leaving  Bent' s  Fort,  Henry 
Chatillon  rode  forward  to  hunt,  and  took  Ellis  along 
with  him.  After  they  had  been  some  time  absent 
we  saw  them  coming  down  the  hill,  driving  three 
dragoon-horses,  which  had  escaped  from  their  own- 
ers on  the  march,  or  perhaps  had  given  out  and 
been  abandoned.  One  of  them  was  in  tolerable 
condition,  but  the  others  were  much  emaciated  and 
severely  bitten  by  the  wolves.  Reduced  as  they 
were,  we  carried  two  of  them  to  the  settlements,  and 
Henry  exchanged  the  third  with  the  Arapahoes  for 
an  excellent  mule. 

On  the  day  after,  when  we  had  stopped  to  rest  at 
noon,  a  long  train  of  Santa  Fe  wagons  came  up  and 
trailed  slowly  past  us  in  their  picturesque  procession. 
They  belonged  to  a  trader  named  Magoffin,  whose 
brother,  with  a  number  of  other  men,  came  over  and 


INDIAN  ALARMS.  347 

sat  down  around  us  on  the  grass.  The  news  they 
brought  was  not  of  the  most  pleasing  complexion. 
According  to  their  accounts  the  trail  below  was  in  a 
very  dangerous  state.  They  had  repeatedly  detected 
Indians  prowling  at  night  around  their  camps  ;  and 
the  large  party  which  had  left  Bent's  Fort  a  few 
weeks  previous  to  our  own  departure  had  been  at- 
tacked, and  a  man  named  Swan,  from  Massachu- 
setts, had  been  killed.  His  companions  had  buried 
the  body  ;  but  when  Magoffin  found  his  grave,  which 
was  near  a  place  called  "  The  Caches,"  the  Indians 
had  dug  up  and  scalped  him,  and  the  wolves  had 
shockingly  mangled  his  remains.  As  an  offset  to 
this  intelligence,  they  gave  us  the  welcome  informa- 
tion that  the  buffalo  were  numerous  at  a  few  days' 
journey  below. 

On  the  next  afternoon,  as  we  moved  along  the 
bank  of  the  river,  we  saw  the  white  tops  of  wagons 
on  the  horizon.  It  was  some  hours  before  we  met 
them,  when  they  proved  to  be  a  train  of  clumsy  ox- 
wagons,  quite  different  from  the  rakish  vehicles  of 
the  Santa  Fe  traders,  and  loaded  with  government 
stores  for  the  troops.  They  all  stopped,  and  the 
drivers  gathered  around  us  in  a  crowd.  I  thought 
that  the  whole  frontier  might  have  been  ransacked 
in  vain  to  furnish  men  worse  fitted  to  meet  the  dan- 
gers of  the  prairie.  Many  of  them  were  mere  boys, 
fresh  from  the  plough,  and  devoid  of  knowledge 
and  experience.  In  respect  to  the  state  of  the  trail, 
they  confirmed  all  that  the  Santa  Fe  men  had  told 
us.  In  passing  between  the  Pawnee  Fork  and  ' '  The 
Caches,"  their  sentinels  had  fired  every  night  at  real 
or  imaginary  Indians.  They  said  also  that  Ewing,  a 
young  Kentuckian  in  the  party  that  had  gone  down 
before  us,  had  shot  an  Indian  who  was  prowling  at 
evening  about  the  camp.  Some  of  them  advised  us 
to  turn  back,  and  others  to  hasten  forward  as  fast  as 


348  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

we  could  ;  but  they  all  seemed  in  such  a  state  of 
feverish  anxiet)%  and  so  little  capable  of  cool  judg- 
ment, that  we  attached  slight  weight  to  what  they 
said.  They  next  gave  us  a  more  definite  piece  of 
intelligence  ;  a  large  village  of  Arapahoes  w  as  en- 
camped on  the  river  below.  They  represented  them 
to  be  quite  friendly  ;  but  some  distinction  was  to  be 
made  between  a  party  of  thirt}-  men,  traveUing  with 
oxen,  which  are  of  no  value  in  an  Indian's  eyes,  and 
a  mere  handful  like  ourselves,  with  a  tempting  band 
of  mules  and  horses.  This  story-  of  the  Arapahoes, 
therefore,  caused  us  some  anxiety-.  ' 

Just  after  leaving  the  government  wagons,  as  Shaw 
and  I  were  riding  along  a  narrow  passage  between 
the  river-bank  and  a  rough  hill  that  pressed  close 
upon  it,  we  heard  Tete  Rouge's  voice  behind  us. 
' '  Halloo  I' '  he  called  out ;  "  I  say,  stop  the  cart  just 
for  a  minute,  wiU  you  ?' ' 

"WTiat's  the  matter,  Tete  ?"  asked  Shaw,  as  he 
came  riding  up  to  us  with  a  grin  of  exultation.  He 
had  a  bottle  of  molasses  in  one  hand,  and  a  large 
bundle  of  hides  on  the  saddle  before  him,  contain- 
ing, as  he  triumphantly  informed  us,  sugar,  biscuits, 
coffee,  and  rice.  These  supplies  he  had  obtained  by 
a  stratagem  on  which  he  greatly  plumed  himself,  and 
he  was  extremely  vexed  and  astonished  that  we  did 
not  fall  in  ^\■ith  his  \-iews  of  the  matter.  He  had  told 
Coates,  the  master-wagoner,  that  the  commissan,-  at 
the  fort  had  given  him  an  order  for  sick-rations,  di- 
rected to  the  master  of  any  government  train  which 
he  might  meet  upon  the  road.  This  order  he  had 
unfortunately  lost,  but  he  hoped  that  the  rations 
would  not  be  refused  on  that  account,  as  he  was  suf- 
fering from  coarse  fare  and  needed  them  ven.-  much. 
As  soon  as  he  came  to  camp  that  night,  Tete  Rouge 
repaired  to  the  box  at  the  back  of  the  cart,  where 
Delorier  used  to  keep  his  culinary  apparatus,  took 


INDIAN  ALARMS.  349 

possession  of  a  saucepan,  and  after  building  a  little 
fire  of  his  own,  set  to  work  preparing  a  meal  out  of 
his  ill-gotten  booty.  This  done,  he  seized  upon  a 
tin  plate  and  spoon,  and  sat  down  under  the  cart  to 
regale  himself.  His  preliminary  repast  did  not  at 
all  prejudice  his  subsequent  exertions  at  supper  ; 
where,  in  spite  of  his  miniature  dimensions,  he  made 
a  better  figure  than  any  of  us.  Indeed,  about  this 
time  his  appetite  grew  quite  voracious.  He  began 
to  thrive  wonderfully.  His  small  body  visibly  ex- 
panded, and  his  cheeks,  which  when  we  first  took 
him  were  rather  yellow  and  cadaverous,  now  dilated 
in  a  wonderful  manner,  and  became  ruddy  in  pro- 
portion. Tete  Rouge,  in  short,  began  to  appear  like 
another  man. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  looking 
along  the  edge  of  the  horizon  in  front,  we  saw  that 
at  one  point  it  was  faintly  marked  with  pale  inden- 
tations, like  the  teeth  of  a  saw.  The  lodges  of  the 
Arapahoes,  rising  between  us  and  the  sky,  caused 
this  singular  appearance.  It  wanted  still  two  or  three 
hours  of  sunset  when  we  came  opposite  their  camp. 
There  were  full  two  hundred  lodges  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  grassy  meadow  at  some  distance  beyond 
the  river,  while  for  a  mile  around  and  on  either  bank 
of  the  Arkansas  were  scattered  some  fifteen  hundred 
horses  and  mules,  grazing  together  in  bands,  or 
wandering  singly  about  the  prairie.  The  whole  were 
visible  at  once,  for  the  vast  expanse  was  unbroken 
by  hills,  and  there  was  not  a  tree  or  a  bush  to  inter- 
cept the  view. 

Here  and  there  walked  an  Indian,  engaged  in 
watching  the  horses.  No  sooner  did  we  see  them 
than  Tete  Rouge  begged  Delorier  to  stop  the  cart 
and  hand  him  his  little  military  jacket,  which  was 
stowed  away  there.  In  this  he  instantly  invested 
himself,   having  for  once  laid  the  old  buffalo  coat 


J 


350  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

aside,  assumed  a  most  martial  posture  in  the  saddle, 
set  his  cap  over  his  left  eye  with  an  air  of  defiance, 
and  earnestly  entreated  that  somebody  would  lend 
him  a  gun  or  a  pistol  only  for  half  an  hour.  Being 
called  upon  to  explain  these  remarkable  proceedings, 
Tete  Rouge  observed  that  he  knew  from  experience 
what  effect  the  presence  of  a  military  man  in  his 
uniform  always  had  upon  the  mind  of  an  Indian, 
and  he  thought  the  Arapahoes  ought  to  know  that 
there  was  a  soldier  in  the  party. 

Meeting  Arapahoes  here  on  the  Arkansas  was  a 
ver\-  different  thing  from  meeting  the  same  Indians 
among  their  native  mountains.  There  was  another 
circumstance  in  our  favor.  General  Kearney  had 
seen  them  a  few  weeks  before,  as  he  came  up  the 
river  with  his  army,  and  renewing  his  threats  of  the 
previous  year,  he  told  them  that  if  they  ever  again 
touched  the  hair  of  a  white  man's  head  he  would 
exterminate  their  nation.  This  placed  them  for  the 
time  in  an  admirable  frame  of  mind,  and  the  effect 
of  his  menaces  had  not  yet  disappeared.  I  was 
anxious  to  see  the  village  and  its  inhabitants.  We 
thought  it  also  our  best  policy  to  visit  them  openly, 
as  if  unsuspicious  of  any  hostile  design  ;  and  Shaw 
and  I,  with  Henn.-  Chatillon,  prepared  to  cross  the 
river.  The  rest  of  the  party  meanwhile  moved  for- 
ward as  fast  as  they  could,  in  order  to  get  as  far  as 
possible  from  our  suspicious  neighbors  before  night 
came  on. 

The  Arkansas  at  this  point,  and  for  several  hun- 
dred miles  below,  is  nothing  but  a  broad  sand-bed, 
over  which  a  few  scanty  threads  of  water  are  swiftly 
gliding,  now  and  then  expanding  into  wide  shallows. 
At  several  places,  during  the  autumn,  the  water 
sinks  into  the  sand  and  disappears  altogether.  At 
this  season,  were  it  not  for  the  numerous  quicksands, 
the  river  might  be  forded  almost  anvwhere  without 


INDIAX  ALARMS.  35  I 

difficulty,  though  its  channel  is  often  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide.  Our  horses  jumped  down  the  bank,  and 
wading  through  the  water,  or  galloping  freely  over 
the  hard  sand-beds,  soon  reached  the  other  side. 
Here,  as  we  were  pushing  through  the  tall  grass,  we 
saw  several  Indians  not  far  off ;  one  of  them  waited 
until  we  came  up,  and  stood  for  some  moments  in 
perfect  silence  before  us,  looking  at  us  askance  with 
his  little  snake-like  eyes.  Henr)-  explained  by 
signs  what  we  wanted,  and  the  Indian,  gathering  his 
buffalo-robe  about  his  shoulders,  led  the  way  toward 
the  village  without  speaking  a  word. 

The  language  of  the  Arapahoesia^se  difficult,  and 
its  pronunciation  so  harsh  and  guttural,  that  no  white 
man,  it  is  said,  has  ever  been  able  to  master  it. 
Even  Maxwell,  the  trader,  who  has  been  most  among 
them,  is  compelled  to  resort  to  the  curious  sign- 
language  common  to  most  of  the  prairie-tribes. 
With  this  Henr\-  Chatillon  was  perfectly  acquainted. 

Approaching  the  village,  we  found  the  ground  all 
around  it  strewn  with  great  piles  of  waste  buffalo- 
meat  in  incredible  quantities.  The  lodges  were 
pitched  in  a  verj-  wide  circle.  They  resembled 
those  of  the  Dahcotah  in  everything  but  cleanliness 
and  neatness.  Passing  between  tvvo  of  them,  we 
entered  the  great  circular  area  of  the  camp,  and 
instantly  hundreds  of  Indians — men,  women,  and 
children — came  flocking  out  of  their  habitations  to 
look  at  us  ;  at  the  same  time  the  dogs  all  around 
the  village  set  up  a  fearful  baying.  Our  Indian 
guide  walked  toward  the  lodge  of  the  chief  Here 
we  dismounted  ;  and  loosening  the  trail-ropes  from 
our  horses'  necks,  held  them  securely,  and  sat  down 
before  the  entrance,  with  our  rifles  laid  across  our 
laps.  The  chief  came  out  and  shook  us  by  the 
hand.  He  was  a  mean-looking  fellow,  very  tall, 
thin-visaged,  and  sinewy,  like  the  rest  of  the  nation, 


352  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

and  with  scarcely  a  vestige  of  clothing.  We  had 
not  been  seated  half  a  minute  before  a  multitude  of 
Indians  came  crowding  around  us  from  ever}"  part 
of  the  village,  and  we  were  shut  in  by  a  dense 
wall  of  savage  faces.  Some  of  the  Indians  crouched 
around  us  on  the  ground  ;  others  again  sat  behind 
them  ;  others,  stooping,  looked  over  their  heads  ; 
while  many  more  stood  crowded  behind,  stretching 
themselves  upward,  and  peering  over  each  other's 
shoulders,  to  get  a  view  of  us.  I  looked  in  vain 
among  this  multitude  of  faces  to  discover  one  manly 
or  generous  expression  ;  all  were  wolfish,  sinister, 
and  malignant,  and  their  complexions,  as  well  as 
their  features,  unlike  those  of  the  Dahcotah,  were 
exceedingly  bad.  The  chief,  who  sat  close  to  the 
entrance,  called  to  a  squaw  within  the  lodge,  who 
soon  came  out  and  placed  a  wooden  bowl  of  meat 
before  us.  To  our  surprise,  however,  no  pipe  was 
offered.  Having  tasted  of  the  meat  as  a  matter  of 
form,  I  began  to  open  a  bundle  of  presents — ^tobacco, 
knives,  veniiilion,  and  other  articles  which  I  had 
brought  with  me.  At  this  there  was  a  grin  on  ever}' 
countenance  in  the  rapacious  crowd  ;  their  eyes 
began  to  glitter,  and  long,  thin  arms  were  eagerly 
stretched  toward  us  on  all  sides  to  receive  the  gifts. 
The  Arapahoes  set  great  value  upon  their  shields, 
which  they  transmit  carefully  from  father  to  son.  I 
wished  to  get  one  of  them  ;  and  displaying  a  large 
piece  of  scarlet  cloth,  together  with  some  tobacco 
and  a  knife,  I  offered  them  to  anyone  who  would 
bring  me  what  I  wanted.  After  some  delay  a  toler- 
able shield  was  produced.  They  were  very  anxious 
to  know  what  we  meant  to  do  with  it,  and  Henr}' 
told  them  that  we  were  going  to  fight  their  enemies, 
the  Pawnees.  This  instantly  produced  a  visible 
impression  in  our  favor,  which  was  increased  by  the 
distribution  of  the  presents.     Among  these  was  a 


IXDIAX  ALAHMS. 


030 


large  paper  of  awls,  a  gift  appropriate  to  the  women  ; 
and  as  we  were  anxious  to  see  the  beauties  of  the 
Arapahoe  village,  Henn.-  requested  that  they  might 
be  called  to  receive  them.  A  warrior  gave  a  shout, 
as  if  he  were  calling  a  pack  of  dogs  together.  The 
squaws,  young  and  old,  hags  of  eighty  and  girls  of 
sixteen,  came  running  with  screams  and  laughter 
out  of  the  lodges  ;  and  as  the  men  gave  wav  for 
them,  they  gathered  around  us  and  stretched  out 
their  arms,  grinning  with  delight,  their  native  ugli- 
ness considerably  enhanced  by  the  excitement  of 
the  moment. 

Mounting  our  horses,  which  during  the  whole  inter- 
view we  had  held  close  to  us,  we  prepared  to  leave 
the  Arapahoes.  The  crowd  fell  back  on  each  side, 
and  stood  looking  on.  WTien  we  were  half-across  the 
camp  an  idea  occurred  to  us.  The  Pawnees  were 
probably  in  the  neighborhood  of  '  •  The  Caches" '  ;  we 
might  tell  the  Arapahoes  of  this,  and  instigate  them  to 
send  down  a  war-part>-  and  cut  them  off,  while  we 
ourselves  could  remain  behind  for  a  while  and  hunt 
the  buffalo.  At  first  thought  this  plan  of  setting  our 
enemies  to  destroy  one  another  seemed  to  us  a 
masterpiece  of  policy  ;  but  we  immediately  recol- 
lected that,  should  we  meet  the  Arapahoe  warriors 
on  the  river  below,  they  might  prove  quite  as  dan- 
gerous as  the  Pawnees  themselves.  So,  rejecting 
our  plan  as  soon  as  it  presented  itself,  we  passed 
out  of  the  village  on  the  farther  side.  We  urged 
our  horses  rapidly  through  the  tall  grass,  which  rose 
to  their  necks.  Several  Indians  were  walking  through 
it  at  a  distance,  their  heads  just  visible  above  its 
waving  surface.  It  bore  a  kind  of  seed,  as  sweet 
and  nutritious  as  oats  ;  and  our  hungry-  horses,  in 
spite  of  whip  and  rein,  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  snatching  at  this  unwonted  luxury-  as  we 
passed  along.  When  about  a  mile  from  the  village, 
23 


354  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

I  turned  and  looked  back  over  the  undulating  ocean 
of  grass.  The  sun  was  just  set  ;  the  western  sky 
was  all  in  a  glow,  and  sharply  defined  against  it,  on 
the  extreme  verge  of  the  plain,  stood  the  numerous 
lodges  of  the  Arapahoe  camp. 

Reaching  the  bank  of  the  river,  we  followed  it  for 
some  distance  farther,  until  we  discerned  through 
the  twilight  the  white  covering  of  our  little  cart  on 
the  opposite  bank.  When  we  reached  it  we  found 
a  considerable  number  of  Indians  there  before  us. 
Four  or  five  of  them  were  seated  in  a  row  upon  the 
ground,  looking  like  so  many  half-staned  vultures. 
Tete  Rouge,  in  his  uniform,  was  holding  a  close  col- 
loquy with  another  by  the  side  of  the  cart.  His 
gesticulations,  his  attempts  at  sign-making,  and  the 
contortions  of  his  countenance,  were  most  ludicrous  ; 
and  finding  all  these  of  no  avail,  he  tried  to  make 
the  Indian  understand  him  by  repeating  English 
■words  ver)-  loudly  and  distinctly  again  and  again. 
The  Indian  sat  with  his  eye  fixed  steadily  upon  him, 
and  in  spite  of  the  rigid  immobilit\-  of  his  features, 
it  was  clear  at  a  glance  that  he  perfectly  understood 
his  militar\-  companion's  character  and  thoroughly 
despised  him.  The  exhibition  was  more  amusing 
than  politic,  and  Tete  Rouge  was  directed  to  finish 
what  he  had  to  say  as  soon  as  possible.  Thus  re- 
buked, he  crept  under  the  cart  and  sat  down  there  ; 
Henn^  Chatillon  stooped  to  look  at  him  in  his  retire- 
ment, and  remarked  in  his  quiet  manner  that  an 
Indian  would  kill  ten  such  men  and  laugh  all  the 
time. 

One  by  one  onr  visitors  arose  and  stalked  away. 
As  the  darkness  thickened  we  were  saluted  by  dis- 
mal sounds.  The  wolves  are  incredibly  numerous 
in  this  part  of  the  countn-,  and  the  offal  around  the 
Arapahoe  camp  had  drawn  such  multitudes  of  them 
together  that  several  hundreds  were  howling  in  con- 


INDIAN  ALARMS.  355 

cen  in  our  immediate  neighborhood.  There  was  an 
island  in  the  river,  or  rather  an  oasis  in  the  midst 
of  the  sands,  at  about  the  distance  of  a  gun-shot, 
and  here  they  seemed  gathered  in  the  greatest  num- 
bers. A  horrible  discord  of  low,  mournful  waihngs, 
mingled  with  ferocious  howls,  arose  from  it  inces- 
sanriy  for  several  hours  after  sunset.  We  could 
distinctly  see  the  wolves  running  about  the  prairie 
within  a  few  rods  of  our  fire,  or  bounding  over  the 
sand-beds  of  the  river  and  splashing  through  the 
water.  There  was  not  the  shghtest  danger  to  be 
feared  from  them,  for  they  are  the  greatest  cowards 
on  the  prairie. 

In  respect  to  the  human  wolves  in  our  neighbor- 
hood we  felt  much  less  at  our  ease.  We  sddom 
erected  our  tent  except  in  bad  weather,  and  that 
night  each  man  spread  his  bunalo-robe  upon  the 
ground,  with  his  loaded  rifle  laid  at  his  side  or 
clasped  in  his  arms.  Our  horses  were  picketed  so 
close  around  us  that  one  of  them  repeatedlv  stepped 
over  me  as  I  lay.  We  were  not  in  the'  habit  of 
placing  a  guard,  but  ever>-  man  that  night  was 
an.xious  and  watchful  :  there  was  litde  sound  sleep- 
ing in  camp,  and  some  one  of  the  parrs-  was  on  his 
feet  during  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  For  my- 
self, I  lay  alternately  waking  and  dozing  until  mid- 
night. Tete  Rouge  was  reposing  close  to  the  river- 
bank,  and  about  this  time,  when  half-asleep  and 
h^Jf-awake,  I  was  conscious  that  he  shifted  his  posi- 
tion and  crept  on  all-fours  under  the  cart.  Soon 
after  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  from  which  I  was 
aroused  by  a  hand  shaking  me  by  the  shoulder. 
Looking  up,  I  saw  Tete  Rouge  stooping  over  me 
^\-ith  his  face  quite  pale  and  his  eyes  dilated  to  their 
utmost  expansion. 

"\Miat's  the  matter?"  said  I. 

Tete  Rouge  declared  that  as  he  lay  on  the  river- 


35<5  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

bank  something  caught  his  eye  which  excited  his 
suspicions.  So,  creeping  under  the  cart  for  safetj^'s 
sake,  he  sat  there  and  watched,  when  he  saw  two 
Indians,  wrapped  in  white  robes,  creep  up  the  bank, 
seize  upon  two  horses,  and  lead  them  off.  He 
looked  so  frightened  and  told  his  stor)^  in  such  a 
disconnected  manner  that  I  did  not  believe  him, 
and  was  unwilling  to  alarm  the  party.  Still  it  might 
be  true,  and  in  that  case  the  matter  required  instant 
attention.  There  would  be  no  time  for  examination, 
and  so  directing  Tete  Rouge  to  show  me  which  way 
the  Indians  had  gone,  I  took  my  ritle,  in  obedience 
to  a  thoughtless  impulse,  and  left  the  camp.  I  fol- 
lowed the  river  back  for  two  or  three  hundred  yards, 
listening  and  looking  anxiously  on  eveiy  side.  In 
the  dark  prairie  on  the  right  I  could  discern  nothing 
to  excite  alarm  ;  and  in  the  dusky  bed  of  the  river 
a  wolf  was  bounding  along  in  a  manner  which  no 
Indian  could  imitate.  I  returned  to  the  camp,  and 
w-hen  within  sight  of  it  saw  that  the  whole  part}'  was 
aroused.  Shaw  called  out  to  me  that  he  had  counted 
the  horses,  and  that  even,'  one  of  them  was  in  his 
place.  Tete  Rouge,  being  examined  as  to  what  he 
had  seen,  only  repeated  his  former  story  with  many 
asseverations,  and  insisted  that  two  horses  were  cer- 
tainly carried  off.  At  this  Jim  Gumey  declared  that 
he  was  crazy  ;  Tete  Rouge  indignantly  denied  the 
charge,  on  which  Jim  appealed  to  us.  As  we 
declined  to  give  our  judgment  on  so  delicate  a  mat- 
ter, the  dispute  grew  hot  between  Tete  Rouge  and 
his  accuser,  until  he  was  directed  to  go  to  bed  and 
not  alarm  the  camp  again  if  he  saw  the  whole 
Arapahoe  village  coming. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   CHASE. 

"  Mightiest  of  all  the  beasts  of  chase, 
That  roam  in  woody  Caledon, 
Crashing  the  forest  in  his  race, 

The  mountain  Bull  comes  thundering  on." 

Cadyow  Castle. 

The  countr)-  before  us  was  now  thronged  with 
buffalo,  and  a  sketch  of  the  manner  of  hunting 
them  will  not  be  out  of  place.  There  are  two 
methods  commonly  practised — "running"  and 
"approaching."  The  chase  on  horseback,  which 
goes  by  the  name  of  "running,"  is  the  more  vio- 
lent and  dashing  mode  of  the  two.  Indeed,  of  all 
American  wild  sports  this  is  the  wildest.  Once 
among  the  buffalo,  the  hunter,  unless  long  use  has 
made  him  familiar  with  the  situation,  dashes  for- 
ward in  utter  recklessness  and  self-abandonment. 
He  thinks  of  nothing,  cares  for  nothing,  but  the 
game  ;  his  mind  is  stimulated  to  the  highest  pitch, 
yet  intensely  concentrated  on  one  object.  In  the 
midst  of  the  flying  herd,  where  the  uproar  and  the 
dust  are  thickest,  it  never  wavers  for  a  moment  ;  he 
drops  the  rein  and  abandons  his  horse  to  his  furious 
career  ;  he  levels  his  gun,  the  report  sounds  faint 
amid  the  thunder  of  the  buffalo  ;  and  when  his 
wounded  enemy  leaps  in  vain  fury  upon  him,  his 
heart  thrills  with  a  feeling  like  the  fierce  delight  of 
the  battlefield.  A  practised  and  skilful  hunter,  well 
mounted,  will  sometimes  kill  five  or  six  cows  in  a 
single  chase,  loading  his  gun  again  and  again  as 
his  horse  rushes  through  the  tumuh.  An  exploit 
like  this  is  quite  beyond  the  capacities  of  a  novice. 

357 


358  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

In  attacking  a  small  band  of  buffalo,  or  in  sepa- 
rating a  single  animal  from  the  herd  and  assailing  it 
apart  from  the  rest,  there  is  less  excitement  and  less 
danger.  With  a  bold  and  well -trained  horse  the 
hunter  may  ride  so  close  to  the  buffalo  that,  as  they 
gallop  side  by  side,  he  may  reach  over  and  touch 
him  -with  his  hand  ;  nor  is  there  much  danger  in 
this  as  long  as  the  buffalo's  strength  and  breath 
continue  unabated  :  but  when  he  becomes  tired  and 
can  no  longer  run  with  ease,  when  his  tongue  lolls 
out  and  the  foam  flies  from  his  jaws,  then  the  hunter 
had  better  keep  a  more  respectful  distance  ;  the 
distressed  brute  may  turn  upon  him  at  any  instant  ; 
and  especially  at  the  moment  when  he  fires  his  gun. 
The  wounded  buffalo  springs  at  his  enemy  :  the 
horse  leaps  \nolently  aside  ;  and  then  the  hunter 
has  need  of  a  tenacious  seat  in  the  saddle,  for  if  he 
is  thrown  to  the  ground  there  is  no  hope  for  him. 
"When  he  sees  his  attack  defeated  the  buffalo  re- 
sumes his  flight,  but  if  the  shot  be  well  directed  he 
soon  stops  ;  for  a  few  moments  he  stands  still,  then 
totters  and  falls  heavily  upon  the  prairie. 

The  chief  difficult}'  in  running  buffalo,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  is  that  of  loading  the  gun  or  pistol  at  full 
gallop.  Many  hunters,  for  convenience'  sake,  carry 
three  or  four  bullets  in  the  mouth  ;  the  powder  is 
poured  dowTi  the  muzzle  of  the  piece,  the  bullet 
dropped  in  after  it,  the  stock  struck  hard  upon  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  the  work  is  done.  The 
danger  of  this  method  is  obvious.  Should  the  blow 
on  the  pommel  fail  to  send  the  bullet  home,  or 
should  the  latter,  in  the  act  of  aiming,  start  from  its 
place  and  roll  toward  the  muzzle,  the  gun  would 
probably  burst  in  discharging.  Many  a  shattered 
hand  and  worse  casualties  besides  have  been  the 
result  of  such  an  accident.  To  obviate  it,  some 
hxmters  make  use  of  a  ramrod,  usually  hung  by  a 


THE    CHASE.  359 

string  from  the  neck,  but  this  materially  increases 
the  dit¥iculty  of  loading.  The  bows  and  arrows 
which  the  Indians  use  in  running  buffalo  have  many 
advantages  over  fire-arms,  and  even  white  men 
occasionally  employ  them. 

The  danger  of  the  chase  arises  not  so  much  from 
the  onset  of  the  wounded  animal  as  from  the  nature 
of  the  ground  over  which  the  hunter  must  ride. 
The  prairie  does  not  always  present  a  smooth,  level, 
and  uniform  surface  ;  very  often  it  is  broken  with 
hills  and  hollows,  intersected  by  ravines,  and  in  the 
remoter  parts  studded  by  the  stiff  wild-sage  bushes. 
The  most  formidable  obstructions,  however,  are  the 
burrows  of  wild  animals — wolves,  badgers,  and  par- 
ticularly prairie-dogs — with  whose  holes  the  ground 
for  a  ver\'  great  extent  is  frequently  honey-combed. 
In  the  blindness  of  the  chase  the  hunter  rushes  over 
it  unconscious  of  danger  ;  his  horse,  at  full  career, 
thrusts  his  leg  deep  into  one  of  the  burrows  ;  the 
bone  snaps,  the  rider  is  hurled  forvvard  to  the  ground 
and  probably  killed.  Yet,  accidents  in  buffalo  run- 
ning happen  less  frequently  than  one  would  sup- 
pose ;  in  the  recklessness  of  the  chase  the  hunter 
enjoys  all  the  impunity  of  a  drunken  man,  and  may 
ride  in  safety  over  the  gullies  and  declivities,  where, 
should  he  attempt  to  pass  in  his  sober  senses,  he 
would  infallibly  break  his  neck. 

The  method  of  "approaching,"  being  practised 
on  foot,  has  many  advantages  over  that  of  ' '  run- 
ning "  ;  in  the  former,  one  neither  breaks  down  his 
horse  nor  endangers  his  own  life  ;  instead  of  yield- 
ing to  excitement,  he  must  be  cool,  collected, 
and  watchful  ;  he  must  understand  the  buffalo, 
observe  the  features  of  the  country-  and  the  course 
of  the  wind,  and  be  well  skilled,  moreover,  in  using 
the  rifle.  The  buffalo  are  strange  animals  ;  some- 
times they  are  so  stupid  and  infatuated  that  a  man 


360 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


may  walk  up  to  them  in  full  sight  on  the  open 
prairie,  and  even  shoot  several  of  their  number 
before  the  rest  will  think  it  necessary'  to  retreat. 
Again,  at  another  moment,  they  will  be  so  shy  and 
wary  that  in  order  to  approach  them  the  utmost 
skill,  experience,  and  judgment  are  necessary. 
Kit  Carson,  I  believe,  stands  pre-eminent  in  running 
bufifalo  ;  in  approaching,  no  man  living  can  bear 
away  the  palm  from  Henr}'  Chatillon. 

To  resume  the  stor)-.  After  Tete  Rouge  had 
alarmed  the  camp,  no  fijrther  disturbance  occurred 
during  the  night.  The  Arapahoes  did  not  attempt 
mischief,  or  if  they  did  the  wakefulness  of  the  party 
deterred  them  from  efifecting  their  purpose.  /  The 
next  day  was  one  of  activity  and  excitement,  for 
about  ten  o'clock  the  man  in  advance  shouted  the 
gladdening  crj-  of  buffalo  !  biffalo  !  and  in  the  hollow 
of  the  prairie  just  below  us,  a  band  of  bulls  were 
grazing.  The  temptation  was  irresistible,  and  Shaw 
and  I  rode  down  upon  them.  We  were  badly 
mounted  on  our  travelling  horses,  but  by  hard  lash- 
ing we  overtook  them,  and  Shaw,  running  alongside 
of  a  bull,  shot  into  him  both  balls  of  his  double- 
barrelled  gun.  Looking  around  as  1  galloped  past 
I  saw  the  bull  in  his  mortal  fury  rushing  again  and 
again  upon  his  antagonist,  whose  horse  constantly 
leaped  aside,  and  avoided  the  onset.  My  chase 
was  more  protracted,  but  at  length  I  ran  close  to 
the  bull  and  killed  him  with  my  pistols.  Cutting  oflf 
the  tails  of  our  victims  by  way  of  trophy,  we  re- 
joined the  part%^  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
we  left  it.  Again  and  again  that  morning  rang  out 
the  same  welcome  en.-  of  buffalo  !  buffa/o  '  Every 
few  moments,  in  the  broad  meadows  along  the  river, 
we  would  see  bands  of  bulls,  who,  raising  their 
shagg\-  heads,  would  gaze  in  stupid  amazement  at 
the  approaching  horsemen,  and  then  breaking  into 


THE    CHASE.  361 

a  clumsy  gallop,  would  file  off  in  a  long  line  across 
the  trail  in  front,  toward  the  rising  prairie  on  the 
left.  At  noon  the  whole  plain  before  us  was  alive 
with  thousands  of  buffalo — bulls,  cows,  and  calves — 
all  moving  rapidly  as  we  drew  near  ;  and  far-off 
beyond  the  river  the  swelling  prairie  was  darkened 
with  them  to  the  ver>-  horizon.  The  part\-  was  in 
gayer  spirits  than  ever.  We  stopped  for  a  "  noon- 
ing "  near  a  grove  of  trees  by  the  river-side. 

' '  Tongues  and  hump-ribs  to-morrow, ' '  said  Shaw, 
looking  with  contempt  at  the  venison  steaks  which 
Delorier  placed  before  us.  Our  meal  finished,  we 
lay  down  under  a  temporar)'  awning  to  sleep.  A 
shout  from  Henr)'  Chatillon  aroused  us,  and  we  saw 
him  standing  on  the  cart-wheel,  stretching  his  tall 
figure  to  its  full  height  while  he  looked  toward  the 
prairie  beyond  the  river.  Following  the  direction 
of  his  eyes,  we  could  clearly  distinguish  a  large 
dark  object,  like  the  black  shadow  of  a  cloud, 
passing  rapidly  over  swell  after  swell  of  the  distant 
plain  :  behind  it  followed  another  of  similar  appear- 
ance, though  smaller.  Its  motion  was  more  rapid, 
and  it  drew  closer  and  closer  to  the  first.  It  was  the 
hunters  of  the  Arapahoe  camp  pursuing  a  band  of 
buffalo.  Shaw  and  1  hastily  caught  and  saddled 
our  best  horses,  and  went  plunging  through  sand 
and  water  to  the  farther  bank.  We  were  too  late. 
The  hunters  had  already  mingled  with  the  herd, 
and  the  work  of  slaughter  was  nearly  over.  When 
we  reached  the  ground  we  found  it  strewn  far  and 
near  with  numberless  black  carcasses,  while  the 
remnants  of  the  herd,  scattered  in  all  directions,  were 
flying  away  in  terror,  and  the  Indians  still  rushing 
in  pursuit.  Many  of  the  hunters,  however,  remained 
upon  the  spot,  and  among  the  rest  was  our  yester- 
day's acquaintance,  the  chief  of  the  village,  He 
had  alighted  by  the  side  of  a  cow,  into  which  he 


362  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

had  shot  five  or  six  arrows,  and  his  squaw,  who  had 
followed  him  on  horseback  to  the  hunt,  was  giving 
him  a  draught  of  water  out  of  a  canteen,  purchased 
or  plundered  from  some  volunteer  soldier.  Re- 
crossing  the  river,  we  overtook  the  part)-,  who  were 
already-  on  their  way. 

We  had  scarcely  gone  a  mile  when  an  imposing 
spectacle  presented  itself.  From  the  river-bank  on 
the  right,  away  over  the  swelling  prairie  on  the  left, 
and  in  front  as  far  as  we  could  see,  extended  one 
vast  host  of  buffalo.  The  outskirts  of  the  herd 
were  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  In  many  parts 
they  were  crowded  so  densely  together  that  in  the 
distance  their  rounded  backs  presented  a  surface  of 
uniform  blackness  ;  but  elsewhere  they  were  more 
scattered,  and  from  amid  the  multitude  rose  little  col- 
umns of  dust  where  the  bufiEalo  were  roUing  on  the 
ground.  Here  and  there  a  great  confusion  was  per- 
ceptible, where  a  battle  was  going  forward  among  the 
bulls.  We  could  distinctly  see  them  rushing  against 
each  other,  and  hear  the  clattering  of  their  horns  and 
their  hoarse  bellowing.  Shaw  was  riding  at  some 
distance  in  advance  with  Henrj-  Chatillon.  I  saw 
him  stop  and  draw  the  leather  covering  from  his 
gun.  Indeed,  with  such  a  sight  before  us,  but  one 
thing  could  be  thought  of.  That  morning  I  had 
used  pistols  in  the  chase.  I  had  now  a  mind  to  try 
the  virtue  of  a  gun.  Delorier  had  one,  and  I  rode 
up  to  the  side  of  the  cart  ;  there  he  sat  under  the 
white  covering,  biting  his  pipe  between  his  teeth  and 
grinning  with  excitement. 

"  Lend  me  your  gun,  Delorier,"  said  I. 

"  Oui,  Monsieur,  oui,"  said  Delorier,  tugging 
with  might  and  main  to  stop  the  mule,  which  seemed 
obstinately  bent  on  going  forward.  Then  everything 
but  his  moccasons  disappeared  as  he  crawled  into 
the  cart  and  pulled  at  the  gun  to  extricate  it. 


THE   CHASE.  363 

"  Is  it  loaded  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oui,  bien  charge,  you'll  kill,  mon  bourgeois; 
yes,  you'll  kill — c'est  un  bon  fusil." 

I  handed  him  my  rifle  and  rode  forward  to  Shaw. 

' '  Are  you  ready  ?' '  he  asked. 

"  Come  on,"  said  I. 

"Keep  down  that  hollow,"  said  Henry-,  "and 
then  they  won't  see  you  till  you  get  close  to  them." 

The  hollow  was  a  kind  of  ravine,  ver}'  wide  and 
shallow  ;  it  ran  obliquely  toward  the  buttalo,  and 
we  rode  at  a  canter  along  the  bottom  until  it  became 
too  shallow  ;  when  we  bent  close  to  our  horses' 
necks,  and  then  finding  that  it  could  no  longer  con- 
ceal us,  came  out  of  it  and  rode  directly  toward  the 
herd.  It  was  within  gunshot ;  before  its  outskirts 
numerous  grizzly  old  bulls  were  scattered,  holding 
guard  over  their  females.  They  glared  at  us  in 
anger  and  astonishment,  walked  toward  us  a  few 
yards,  and  then  turning  slowly  around  retreated  at  a 
trot,  which  afterward  broke  into  a  clumsy  gallop. 
In  an  instant  the  main  body  caught  the  alarm.  The 
buffalo  began  to  crowd  away  from  the  point  toward 
which  we  were  approaching,  and  a  gap  was  opened 
in  the  side  of  the  herd.  We  entered  it,  still  re- 
straining our  excited  horses.  Ever\-  instant  the 
tumult  was  thickening.  The  buffalo,  pressing  to- 
gether in  large  bodies,  crowded  away  from  us  on 
ever\'  hand.  In  front  and  on  either  side  we  could 
see  dark  columns  and  masses,  half-hidden  by  clouds 
of  dust,  rushing  along  in  terror  and  confiision,  and 
hear  the  tramp  and  clattering  of  ten  thousand  hoofs. 
That  countless  multitude  of  powerful  brutes,  igno- 
rant of  their  own  strength,  were  flying  in  a  panic 
from  the  approach  of  tvvo  feeble  horsemen.  To 
remain  quiet  longer  was  impossible. 

"  Take  that  band  on  the  left,"  said  Shaw  ;  "  I'll 
take  these  in  front." 


364  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

He  sprang  off,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him.  A 
heavy  Indian  whip  was  fastened  by  a  band  to  my 
wrist  ;  I  swung  it  into  the  air  and  lashed  my  horse's 
flank  with  all  the  strength  of  my  arm.  Away  she 
darted,  stretching  close  to  the  ground.  I  could  see 
nothing  but  a  cloud  of  dust  before  me,  but  1  knew 
that  it  concealed  a  band  of  many  hundreds  of  buf- 
falo. In  a  moment  1  was  in  the  midst  of  the  cloud, 
half-suffocated  by  the  dust  and  stunned  by  the  tram- 
pling of  the  flying  herd  ;  but  I  was  drunk  with  the 
chase  and  cared  for  nothing  but  the  buffalo.  Very 
soon  a  long  dark  mass  became  visible,  looming 
through  the  dust  ;  then  1  could  distinguish  each 
bulky  carcass,  the  hoofs  flying  out  beneath,  the 
short  tails  held  rigidly  erect.  In  a  moment  1  was 
so  close  that  I  could  have  touched  them  with  my 
gun.  Suddenly,  to  my  utter  amazement,  the  hoofs 
were  jerked  upward,  the  tails  flourished  in  the  air, 
and  amid  a  cloud  of  dust  the  buftalo  seemed  to  sink 
into  the  earth  before  me.  One  vivid  impression  of 
that  instant  remains  upon  my  mind.  I  remember 
looking  down  upon  the  backs  of  several  buffalo 
dimly  visible  through  the  dust.  We  had  run  un- 
awares upon  a  ravine.  At  that  moment  I  was  not 
the  most  accurate  judge  of  depth  and  width,  but 
when  I  passed  it  on  my  return,  I  found  it  about 
twelve  feet  deep  and  not  quite  twice  as  wide  at  the 
bottom.  It  was  impossible  to  stop  ;  1  would  have 
done  so  gladly  if  I  could  ;  so,  half-sliding,  half- 
plunging,  down  went  the  little  mare.  I  believe  she 
came  down  on  her  knees  in  the  loose  sand  at  the 
bottom  ;  1  was  pitched  forward  violently  against  her 
neck  and  nearly  throii'n  over  her  head  among  the 
buffalo,  whoT~amid  dust  and  confusion,  came  tum- 
bling in  all  around.  The  mare  was  on  her  feet  in 
an  instant,  and  scrambling  like  a  cat  up  the  opposite 
side.      I  thought  for  a  moment  that  she  would  have 


THE    CHASE.  365 

fallen  back  and  crushed  me,  but  with  a  violent 
effort  she  clambered  out  and  gained  the  hard  prairie 
above.  Glancing  back  I  saw  the  huge  head  of  a 
bull  clinging,  as  it  were,  by  the  forefeet  at  the  edge 
of  the  dusty  gulf.  At  length  I  was  fairly  among  the 
butifalo.  They  were  less  densely  crowded  than  be- 
fore, and  I  could  see  nothing  but  bulls,  who  aUvays 
run  at  the  rear  of  a  herd.  As  I  passed  amid  rhem 
they  would  lower  their  heads,  and  turning  as  they 
ran,  attempt  to  gore  my  horse  ;  but  as  they  were 
already  at  full  speed  there  was  no  force  in  their 
onset,  and  as  Pauline  ran  faster  than  they,  they 
were  always  thrown  behind  her  in  the  effort.  I  soon 
began  to  distinguish  cows  amid  the  throng.  One 
just  in  front  of  me  seemed  to  my  liking,  and  I 
pushed  close  to  her  side.  Dropping  the  reins,  I 
fired,  holding  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  within  a  foot  of 
her  shoulder.  Quick  as  hghtning  she  sprang  at 
Pauline  ;  the  little  mare  dodged  the  attack,  and  I 
lost  sight  of  the  wounded  animal  amid  the  tumult- 
uous crowd.  Immediately  after  I  selected  another, 
and  urging  forward  Pauline,  shot  into  her  both  pis- 
tols in  succession.  For  a  while  1  kept  her  in  view, 
but  in  attempting  to  load  my  gun,  lost  sight  of  her 
also  in  the  confusion.  Believing  her  to  be  mortally 
wounded  and  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  herd,  I 
checked  my  horse.  The  crowd  rushed  onward. 
The  dust  and  tumult  passed  away,  and  on  the  prai- 
rie, far  behind  the  rest,  I  saw  a  solitary  buffalo  gal- 
loping heavily.  In  a  moment  I  and  my  victim 
were  running  side  by  side.  My  fireamis  were  all 
empty,  and  I  had  in  my  pouch  nothing  but  rifle- 
bullets,  too  large  for  the  pistols  and  too  small  for  the 
gun.  I  loaded  the  latter,  however,  but  as  often  as  I 
levelled  it  to  fire,  the  little  bullets  would  roll  out  of 
the  muzzle  and  the  gun  returned  only  a  faint  report 
like  a  squib,  as  the  powder  harmlessly  e.xploded.     I 


366 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


galloped  in  front  of  the  buffalo  and  attempted  to 
turn  her  back  ;  but  her  eyes  glared,  her  mane 
bristled,  and  lowering  her  head,  she  rushed  at  me 
with  astonishing  fierceness  and  activity.  Again  and 
again  1  rode  before  her,  and  again  and  again  she 
repeated  her  furious  charge.  But  little  Pauline  was 
in  her  element.  She  dodged  her  enemy  at  every 
rush,  until  at  length  the  buffalo  stood  still,  exhausted 
with  her  own  efforts  ;  she  panted,  and  her  tongue 
hung  lolling  from  her  jaws. 

Riding  to  a  little  distance,  1  alighted,  thinking  to 
gather  a  handful  of  dry  grass  to  serve  the  purpose 
of  wadding,  and  load  the  gun  at  my  leisure.  Xo 
sooner  were  my  feet  on  the  ground  than  the  buffalo 
came  bounding  in  such  a  rage  toward  me  that  I 
jumped  back  again  into  the  saddle  with  all  possible 
dispatch.  After  waiting  a  few  minutes  more,  I 
made  an  attempt  to  ride  up  and  stab  her  with  my 
knife  ;  but  the  experiment  proved  such  as  no  wise 
man  would  repeat.  At  length,  bethinking  me  of 
the  fringes  at  the  seams  of  my  buckskin  pantaloons, 
I  jerked  off  a  few  of  them,  and  reloading  the  gun, 
forced  them  down  the  barrel  to  keep  the  bullet  in 
its  place  ;  then  approaching,  I  shot  the  wounded 
buffalo  through  the  heart.  Sinking  to  her  knees, 
she  rolled  over  lifeless  on  the  prairie.  To  my  aston- 
ishment I  found  that  instead  of  a  fat  cow  I  had 
been  slaughtering  a  stout  yearling  bull.  No  longer 
wondering  at  the  fierceness  he  had  shown,  I  opened 
his  throat,  and  cutting  out  his  tongue,  tied  it  at  the 
back  of  my  saddle.  My  mistake  was  one  which  a 
more  experienced  eye  than  mine  might  easily  make 
in  the  dust  and  confusion  of  such  a  chase. 

Then  for  the  first  time  1  had  leisure  to  look  at  the 
scene  around  me.  The  prairie  in  front  was  dark- 
ened with  the  retreating  multitude,  and  on  the  other 
hand  the  buffalo  came  filing  up  in  endless  unbroken 


THE   BUFFALO-CAMP.  367 

coliunns  from  the  low  plains  upon  the  river.  The 
Arkansas  was  three  or  four  miles  distant.  I  turned 
and  moved  slowly  toward  it.  A  long  time  passed 
before,  far  down  in  the  distance,  I  distinguished  the 
white  covering  of  the  cart  and  the  Uttle  black  specks 
of  horsemen  before  and  behind  it.  Drawing  near,  I 
recognized  Shaw's  elegant  tunic,  the  red  flannel 
shirt  conspicuous  far  off.  I  overtook  the  party,  and 
asked  him  what  success  he  had  met  with.  He  had 
assailed  a  fat  cow,  shot  her  with  two  bullets,  and 
mortally  wounded  her.  But  neither  of  us  were  pre- 
pared for  the  chase  that  afternoon,  and  Shaw,  like 
myself,  had  no  spare  bullets  in  his  pouch  ;  so  he 
abandoned  the  disabled  animal  to  Henr\-  Chatillon, 
who  followed,  dispatched  her  «"iih  his  rifle,  and 
loaded  his  horse  with  her  meat. 

We  encamped  close  to  the  river.  The  night  was 
dark,  and  as  we  lay  do%%"n  we  could  hear  mingled 
\\-ith  the  bowlings  of  wolves  the  hoarse  bellowing  of 
the  buffalo,  like  the  ocean  beating  upon  a  distant 
coast. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE    BUFFALO-CAMP. 

"  In  pastures  measureless  as  air. 
The  bison  is  my  noble  game." — Bry.\NT. 

No  one  in  the  camp  was  more  active  than  Jim 
Gumey,  and  no  one  half  so  lazy  as  Ellis.  Between 
these  two  there  was  a  great  antipathy.  Ellis  never 
stirred  in  the  morning  until  he  was  compelled  to, 
but  Jim  was  always  on  his  feet  before  daybreak  ; 
and  this  morning,  as  usual,  the  sound  of  his  voice 
awakened  the  party. 


368  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

"Get  up,  you  booby  !  up  with  you  now,  you're 
fit  for  nothing  but  eating  and  sleeping.  Stop  your 
grumbling  and  come  out  of  that  buffalo-robe  or  Til 
pull  it  off  for  you." 

Jims  words  were  interspersed  with  numerous 
expletives,  which  gave  them  great  additional  effect. 
Ellis  drawled  out  something  in  a  nasal  tone  from 
among  the  folds  of  his  buffalo-robe  ;  then  slowly 
disengaged  himself,  rose  into  a  sitting-posture, 
stretched  his  long  arms,  yawned  hideously,  and, 
finally  raising  his  tall  person  erect,  stood  staring 
around  him  to  all  the  four  quarters  of  the  horizon. 
Deloriers  fire  was  soon  blazing,  and  the  horses  and 
mules,  loosened  from  their  pickets,  were  feeding  on 
the  neighboring  meadow.  When  we  sat  down  to 
breakfast  the  prairie  was  still  in  the  dusky  hght  of 
morning  ;  and  as  the  sun  rose  we  were  moimted 
and  on  our  way  again. 

"  A  white  buffalo  I"  exclaimed  Munroe. 

"I'll  have  that  fellow,"  said  Shaw,  "  if  I  run  my 
horse  to  death  after  him." 

He  threw  the  cover  of  his  gun  to  Delorier  and 
galloped  out  upon  the  prairie. 

"  Stop,  Mr.  Shaw,  stop  !"  called  out  Henn.-  Cha- 
tillon,  "you'U  run  down  your  horse  for  nothing; 
it' s  only  a  white  ox. 

But  Shaw  was  already  out  of  hearing.  The  ox, 
who  had  no  doubt  strayed  away  from  some  of  the 
government  wagon-trains,  was  standing  beneath 
some  low  hills  which  bounded  the  plain  in  the  dis- 
tance. Not  far  from  him  a  band  of  veritable  buffalo- 
bulls  were  grazing  ;  and  startled  at  Shaw's  approach, 
they  all  broke  into  a  run,  and  went  scrambhng  up 
the  hillsides  to  gain  the  high  prairie  above.  One  of 
them  in  his  haste  and  terror  involved  himself  in  a 
fatal  catastrophe.  Along  the  foot  of  the  hills  was  a 
narrow  strip  of  deep  marshy  soil,  into  which  the 


THE  BUFFALO-CAMP.  369 

bull  plunged  and  hopelessly  entangled  himself. 
We  all  rode  up  to  the  spot.  The  huge  carcass  was 
half-sunk  in  the  mud  which  flowed  to  his  very  chin, 
and  his  shaggy  mane  was  outspread  upon  the  sur- 
face. As  we  came  near  the  bull  began  to  struggle 
with  convulsive  strength  ;  he  writhed  to  and  fro, 
and  in  the  energy  of  his  fright  and  desperation 
would  lift  himself  for  a  moment  half  out  of  the 
slough,  while  the  reluctant  mire  returned  a  sucking 
sound  as  he  strained  to  drag  his  limbs  from  its  tena- 
cious depths.  We  stimulated  his  exertions  by  get- 
ting behind  him  and  twisting  his  tail  ;  nothing 
would  do.  There  was  clearly  no  hope  for  him. 
After  every  effort  his  heaving  sides  were  more 
deeply  imbedded  and  the  mire  almost  overflowed  his 
nostrils  ;  he  lay  still,  at  length,  and  looking  around  at 
us  with  a  furious  eye,  seemed  to  resign  himself  to 
his  fate.  Ellis  slowly  dismounted,  and  deliberately 
levelling  his  boasted  yager,  shot  the  old  bull  through 
the  heart  ;  then  he  lazily  climbed  back  again  to  his 
seat,  pluming  himself,  no  doubt,  on  having  actually 
killed  a  buffalo.  That  day  the  invincible  yager 
drew  blood  for  the  first  and  last  time  during  the 
whole  journey. 

The  morning  was  a  bright  and  gay  one,  and  the 
air  so  clear  that  on  the  farthest  horizon  the  outline 
of  the  pale-blue  prairie  was  sharply  drawn  against 
the  sky.  Shaw  felt  in  the  mood  for  hunting  ;  he 
rode  in  advance  of  the  party,  and  before  long  we 
saw  a  file  of  bulls  galloping  at  full  speed  upon  a' 
vast  green  swell  of  the  prairie  at  some  distance  in 
front.  Shaw  came  scouring  along  behind  them, 
arrayed  in  his  red  shirt,  which  looked  very  well  in 
the  distance  ;  he  gained  fast  on  the  fugitives,  and  as 
the  foremost  bull  was  disappearing  behind  the  sum- 
mit of  the  swell,  we  saw  him  in  the  act  of  assailing 
the  hindmost ;  a  smoke  sprang  from  the  muzzle  of 
24 


370  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

his  gun,  and  floated  away  before  the  ■n-ind  Hke  a 
little  white  cloud  ;  the  bull  turned  upon  him,  and 
just  then  the  rising  ground  concealed  them  both 
from  view. 

We  were  moving  fonvard  until  about  noon,  when 
we  stopped  by  the  side  of  the  Arkansas.  At  that 
moment  Shaw  appeared  riding  slowly  down  the  side 
of  a  distant  hill  ;  his  horse  was  tired  and  jaded, 
and  when  he  threw  his  saddle  upon  the  ground,  I 
obser\-ed  that  the  tails  of  two  bulls  were  dangling 
behind  it.  No  sooner  \vere  the  horses  turned  loose 
to  feed  than  Henr}-,  asking  Munroe  to  go  with  him, 
took  his  rifle  and  walked  quietly  away.  Shaw, 
Tete  Rouge,  and  1  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the  cart 
to  discuss  the  dinner  which  Delorier  placed  before 
us  ;  we  had  scarcely  finished  when  we  saw  Munroe 
walking  toward  us  along  the  river-bank.  Henry, 
he  said,  had  killed  four  £at  cows,  and  had  sent  him 
back  for  horses  to  bring  in  the  meat.  Shaw  took  a 
horse  for  himself  and  another  for  Henry,  and  he 
and  Munroe  left  the  camp  together.  Afier  a  short 
absence  all  three  of  them  came  back,  their  horses 
loaded  with  the  choicest  parts  of  the  meat ;  we  kept 
tivo  of  the  cows  for  ourselves  and  gave  the  others  to 
I^Iunroe  and  his  companions.  Delorier  seated  him- 
self on  the  grass  before  the  pile  of  meat,  and  worked 
industriously  for  some  time  to  cut  it  into  thin  broad 
sheets  for  dr^^ng.  This  is  no  easy  matter,  but 
Delorier  had  all  the  skill  of  an  Indian  squaw. 
Long  before  night  cords  of  raw-hide  were  stretched 
around  the  camp,  and  the  meat  was  hung  upon 
them  to  drj'  in  the  sunshine  and  pure  air  of  the 
prairie.  Our  California  companions  were  less  suc- 
cessful at  the  work  ;  but  they  accomplished  it  after 
their  own  fashion,  and  their  side  of  the  camp  was 
soon  garnished  in  the  same  manner  as  our  own. 

We  meant  to  remain  at  this  place  long  enough  to 


THE   BUFFALO-CAMP.  37 1 

prepare  provisions  for  our  journey  to  .the  frontier, 
which,  as  we  supposed,  might  occupy  about  a  month. 
Had  the  distance  been  twice  as  great  and  the  party 
ten  times  as  large,  the  unerring  rifle  of  Henr)-  Cha- 
tillon  would  have  supplied  meat  enough  for  the 
whole  within  two  days  ;  we  were  obliged  to  remain, 
however,  until  it  should  be  dr}-  enough  for  trans- 
portation ;  so  we  erected  our  tent  and  made  the 
other  arrangements  for  a  permanent  camp.  The 
California  men,  who  had  no  such  shelter,  contented 
themselves  with  arranging  their  packs  on  the  grass 
around  their  fire.  In  the  meantime  we  had  nothing 
to  do  but  amuse  ourselves.  Our  tent  was  within  a 
rod  of  the  river,  if  the  broad  sand-beds,  with  a 
scanty  stream  of  water  coursing  here  and  there 
along  their  surface,  deserve  to  be  dignified  with  the 
name  of  river.  The  vast  flat  plains  on  either  side 
were  almost  on  a  level  with  the  sand-beds,  and  they 
were  bounded  in  the  distance  by  low,  monotonous 
hills,  parallel  to  the  course  of  the  Arkansas.  All 
was  one  e.xpanse  of  grass  ;  there  was  no  wood  in 
view,  except  some  trees  and  stunted  bushes  upon 
two  islands  which  rose  from  amid  the  wet  sands  of 
the  river.  Yet  far  from  being  dull  and  tame,  this 
boundless  scene  was  often  a  ^^■ild  and  animated 
one  ;  for  twice  a  day,  at  sunrise  and  at  noon,  the 
buffalo  came  issuing  from  the  hills,  slowly  advanc- 
ing in  their  grave  processions  to  drink  at  the  river. 
All  our  amusements  were  to  be  at  their  expense. 
Except  an  elephant,  I  have  seen  no  animal  that  can 
surpass  a  buffalo-bull  in  size  and  strength,  and  the 
world  may  be  searched  in  vain  to  find  anything  of  a 
more  ugly  and  ferocious  aspect.  At  first  sight  of 
him  every  feehng  of  sympathy  vanishes  ;  no  man 
who  has  not  experienced  it  can  understand  with  what 
keen  relish  one  inflicts  his  death-wound,  with  what 
profound  contentment  of  mind  he  beholds  him  fall. 


372  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

The  cows  are  much  smaller  and  of  a  gentler  appear- 
ance, as  becomes  their  sex.  While  in  this  camp  we 
forebore  to  attack  them,  leaving  to  Henry  Chatillon, 
who  could  better  judge  their  fatness  and  good 
quality,  the  task  of  killing  such  as  we  wanted  for 
use  ;  but  against  the  bulls  we  waged  an  unrelenting 
war.  Thousands  of  them  might  be  slaughtered 
without  causing  any  detriment  to  the  species,  for 
their  numbers  greatly  exceed  those  of  the  cows  ;  it 
is  the  hides  of  the  latter  alone  which  are  used  for 
the  purpose  of  commerce  and  for  making  the  lodges 
of  the  Indians  ;  and  the  destruction  among  them  is 
therefore  altogether  disproportioned. 

Our  horses  were  tired,  and  we  now  usually  hunted 
on  foot.  The  wide,  flat  sand-beds  of  the  Arkansas, 
as  the  reader  will  remember,  lay  close  by  the  side 
of  our  camp.  While  we  were  lying  on  the  grass 
after  dinner,  smoking,  conversing,  or  laughing  at 
Tete  Rouge,  one  of  us  would  look  up  and  obser\'e. 
far  out  on  the  plains  beyond  the  river,  certain  black 
objects  slowly  approaching.  He  would  inhale  a 
parting  whiff  from  the  pipe,  then  rising  lazily,  take 
his  rifle,  which  leaned  against  the  cart,  throw 
over  his  shoulder  the  strap  of  his  pouch  and  pow- 
der-horn, and  with  his  moccasons  in  his  hand,  walk 
quietly  across  the  sand  toward  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river.  This  was  very  easy  ;  for  though  the 
sands  were  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide,  the 
water  was  nowhere  more  than  two  feet  deep.  The 
farther  bank  was  about  four  or  five  feet  high,  and 
quite  perpendicular,  being  cut  away  by  the  water  in 
spring.  Tall  grass  grew  along  its  edge.  Putting  it 
aside  Avith  his  hand,  and  cautiously  looking  through 
it,  the  hunter  can  discern  the  huge  shaggy  back  of 
the  buffalo  slowly  swaying  to  and  fro,  as,  with  his 
clumsy,  swinging  gait,  he  advances  toward  the 
water.     The  buffalo  have  regular  paths  by  which 


THE   BUFFALO-CAMP.  373 

they  come  down  to  drink.  Seeing  at  a  glance  along 
which  of  these  his  intended  victim  is  moving,  the 
hunter  crouches  under  the  bank  within  fifteen  or 
twenty  yards,  it  may  be,  of  the  point  where  the 
path  enters  the  river.  Here  he  sits  down  quietly  on 
the  sand.  Listening  intently,  he  hears  the  heavy 
monotonous  tread  of  the  approaching  bull.  The 
moment  after,  he  sees  a  motion  among  the  long 
weeds  and  grass  just  at  the  spot  where  the  path  is 
channelled  through  the  bank.  An  enormous  black 
head  is  thrust  out,  the  horns  just  visible  amid  the 
mass  of  tangled  mane.  Half-shding,  half-plunging, 
down  comes  the  buffalo  upon  the  river-bed  below. 
He  steps  out  in  full  sight  upon  the  sands.  Just 
before  him  a  runnel  of  water  is  gliding,  and  he 
bends  his  head  to  drink.  You  may  hear  the  water 
as  it  gurgles  down  his  capacious  throat.  He  raises 
his  head,  and  the  drops  trickle  from  his  wet  beard. 
He  stands  with  an  air  of  stupid  abstraction,  uncon- 
scious of  the  lurking  danger.  Noiselessly  the  hunter 
cocks  his  rifle.  As  he  sits  upon  the  sand,  his  knee 
is  raised,  and  his  elbow  rests  upon  it,  that  he  may 
level  his  heavy  weapon  with  a  steadier  aim.  The 
stock  is  at  his  shoulder  ;  his  eye  ranges  along  the 
barrel.  Still  he  is  in  no  haste  to  fire.  The  bull, 
with  slow  deliberation,  begins  his  march  over  the 
sands  to  the  other  side.  He  advances  his  fore-leg, 
and  exposes  to  view  a  small  spot,  denuded  of  hair, 
just  behind  the  point  of  his  shoulder  ;  upon  this  the 
hunter  brings  the  sight  of  his  rifle  to  bear  ;  lightly 
and  delicately  his  finger  presses  upon  the  hair- 
trigger.  Quick  as  thought  the  spiteful  crack  of  the 
rifle  responds  to  his  slight  touch,  and  instantly  in 
the  middle  of  the  bare  spot  appears  a  small  red  dot. 
The  buffalo  shivers  ;  death  has  overtaken  him,  he 
cannot  tell  from  whence  ;  still  he  does  not  fall,  but 
walks  heavily  forward,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 


374  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

Yet  before  he  has  advanced  ba  out  upon  die  sand, 
you  see  him  stop  ;  he  totters  ;  his  knees  bend  imder 
him.  and  his  head  anks  farward  to  the  gitNmd. 
Then  his  whole  vast  bulk  swa^'^s  to  one  side ;  he 
rolls  over  on  the  sand,  and  dies  with  a  scarcely  po'- 
c^rtible  stn^gle. 

Waylaying  the  bu&lo  in  diis  manner,  and  shoot- 
ing them  as  they  come  to  water,  is  the  easiest  and 
laziest  m^hod  of  hunting  them.  They  may  also 
be  approached  by  crawling  up  ravines,  or  bdiind 
hills,  or  even  over  the  (q>en  prairie.  This  is  often 
surprisingly  easy  ;  but  at  other  times  it  requires  the 
utmost  ^ill  of  the  most  experienced  hunto'.  Henry 
Chalillon  was  a  man  vX.  extraordinary  strength  and 
hardihood ;  but  I  have  seen  him  return  to  camp 
quite  exhausted  with  his  efforts,  his  limbs  scratched 
and  wounded,  and  his  buckskin  dress  stuck  full  vX. 
the  thorns  <rf'  the  prickly-pear,  amoi^  wiiich  he  had 
been  crawling.  Sometime  he  would  lay  flat  upon 
his  &ce,  and  drag  himself  along  in  tins  poation  for 
many  rods  together. 

On  the  second  day  <rf'  our  stay  at  this  place. 
Henry  went  out  for  an  afternoon  hunt.  Shaw  and 
I  remained  in  camp,  until,  observii^  some  bulls  ap- 
proaching the  wato-  upon  the  odier  side  of  the  river, 
we  crossed  over  to  attack  them.  They  were  so 
near,  however,  that  before  we  could  get  under  cover 
of  the  bank,  our  appearance  as  we  walked  over  die 
sands  alarmed  than.  Turning  around  b^ne  coming 
within  gun^ot,  diey  began  to  move  off  to  the  right, 
in  a  direction  paraUel  to  the  river.  I  climbed  up 
the  bank  and  lan  after  them.  They  were  walking 
sv.-ift]y,  and  before  I  could  come^witlun  gunshot  dis- 
tance, they  dowly  wheded  about  and  &ced  toward 
me.  Before  diey  had  turned  fax  enough  to  see  me 
I  had  fedlen  flat  on  my  &ce.  For  a  moment  diey 
stood  and  stared  at  the  strange  object  upon  the 


THE  BUFFALO-CAMP.  375 

grass  ;  then  turning  away,  again  they  walked  on  as 
before  ;  and  I,  rising  immediately,  ran  once  more 
in  pursuit.  Again  they  wheeled  about,  and  again  I 
fell  prostrate.  Repeating  this  three  or  four  times,  I 
came  at  length  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  fugi- 
tives, and  as  1  saw  them  turning  again  I  sat  down 
and  levelled  my  rifle.  The  one  in  the  centre  was 
the  largest  I  had  ever  seen.  I  shot  him  behind 
the  shoulder.  His  two  companions  ran  off.  He 
attempted  to  follow,  but  soon  came  to  a  stand,  and 
at  length  lay  down  as  quietly  as  an  ox  chewing  the 
cud.  Cautiously  approaching  him,  I  saw  by  his 
dull  and  jelly-like  eye  that  he  was  dead. 

When  I  began  the  chase  the  prairie  was  almost 
tenantless  ;  but  a  great  multitude  of  buffalo  had 
suddenly  thronged  upon  it,  and  looking  up  I  saw 
within  fifty  rods  a  heavy,  dark  column  stretching  to 
the  right  and  left  as  far  as  I  could  see.  I  walked 
toward  them.  My  approach  did  not  alarm  them  in 
the  least.  The  column  itself  consisted  almost  en- 
tirely of  cows  and  calves,  but  a  great  many  old  bulls 
were  ranging  about  the  prairie  on  its  flank,  and  as  I 
drew  near  they  faced  toward  me  with  such  a  shaggy 
and  ferocious  look  that  1  thought  it  best  to  proceed 
no  farther.  Indeed,  1  was  already  within  close  rifle- 
shot of  the  column,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  ground 
to  watch  their  movements.  Sometimes  the  whole 
would  stand  still,  their  heads  all  facing  one  way  ; 
then  they  would  trot  forward,  as  if  by  a  common 
impulse,  their  hoofs  and  horns  clattering  together  as 
they  moved.  I  soon  began  to  hear  at  a  distance  on 
the  left  the  sharp  reports  of  a  rifle,  again  and  again 
repeated  ;  and  not  long  after,  dull  and  heavy  sounds 
succeeded,  which  I  recognized  as  the  familiar  voice 
of  Shaw's  double-barrelled  gun.  When  Henr)''s 
rifle  was  at  work  there  was  always  meat  to  be 
brought   in.      I   went  back  across  the    river  for  a 


3/6 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


horse,  and  returning,  reached  the  spot  where  the 
hunters  were  standing.  The  buffalo  were  visible  on 
the  distant  prairie.  The  living  had  retreated  from 
the  ground,  but  ten  or  twelve  carcasses  were  scat- 
tered in  various  directions.  Henn.',  knife  in  hand, 
was  stooping  over  a  dead  cow,  cutting  away  the  best 
and  fattest  of  the  meat. 

When  Shaw  left  me  he  had  walked  down  for  some 
distance  under  the  river-bank  to  find  another  bull. 
At  length  he  saw  the  plains  covered  with  the  host 
of  buffalo,  and  soon  after  heard  the  crack  of  Henri's 
rifle.  Ascending  the  bank,  he  crawled  through  the 
grass,  which  for  a  rod  or  two  from  the  river  was 
ver}'  high  and  rank.  He  had  not  crawled  far  before, 
to  his  astonishment,  he  saw  Henr\'  standing  erect 
upon  the  prairie,  almost  surrounded  by  the  buffalo. 
Henn.-  was  in  his  appropriate  element.  Nelson,  on 
the  deck  of  the  "Victory,"  hardly  felt  a  prouder 
sense  of  mastery  than  he.  Quite  unconscious  that 
any  one  was  looking  at  him,  he  stood  at  the  full 
height  of  his  tall,  strong  figure,  one  hand  resting 
upon  his  side,  and  the  other  arm  leaning  carelessly 
on  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle.  His  eyes  were  ranging 
over  the  singular  assemblage  around  him.  Now 
and  then  he  would  select  such  a  cow  as  suited  him, 
level  his  rifle,  and  shoot  her  dead  ;  then,  quietly 
reloading,  he  would  resume  his  former  position. 
The  butfalo  seemed  no  more  to  regard  his  presence 
than  if  he  were  one  of  themselves  ;  the  bulls  were 
bellowing  and  butting  at  each  other,  or  else  rolling 
about  in  the  dust.  A  group  of  buffalo  would  gather 
about  the  carcass  of  a  dead  cow,  snufling  at  her 
wounds  ;  and  sometimes  they  would  come  behind 
those  that  had  not  yet  fallen  and  endeavor  to  push 
them  from  the  spot.  Now  and  then  some  old  bull 
would  face  toward  Henry  with  an  air  of  stupid 
amazement,  but  none  seemed  inclined  to  attack  or 


THE  BUFFALO-CAMP.  377 

fly  from  him.  For  some  time  Shaw  lay  among  the 
grass,  looking  in  surprise  at  this  extraordinary  sight  ; 
at  length  he  crawled  cautiously  forward,  and  spoke 
in  a  low  voice  to  Henry,  who  told  him  to  rise  and 
come  on.  Still  the  buffalo  showed  no  sign  of  fear  ; 
they  remained  gathered  about  their  dead  com- 
panions. Henry  had  already  killed  as  many  cows 
as  we  wanted  for  use,  and  Shaw,  kneeling  behind 
one  of  the  carcasses,  shot  five  bulls  before  the  rest 
thought  it  necessan."  to  disperse. 

The  frequent  stupidity  and  infatuation  of  the 
buftalo  seems  the  more  remarkable  from  the  con- 
trast it  offers  to  their  wildness  and  wariness  at  other 
times.  Henry  knew  all  their  peculiarities  ;  he  had 
studied  them  as  a  scholar  studies  his  l)Ooks,  and  he 
derived  quite  as  much  pleasure  from  the  occupation. 
The  buffalo  were  a  kind  of  companions  to  him,  and, 
as  he  said,  he  never  felt  alone  when  they  were  about 
him.  He  took  great  pride  in  his  skill  in  hunting. 
Henry  was  one  of  the  most  modest  of  men  ;  yet,  in 
the  simplicity  and  frankness  of  his  character,  it  was 
quite  clear  that  he  looked  upon  his  pre-eminence  in 
this  respect  as  a  thing  too  palpable  and  well-estab- 
lished ever  to  be  disputed.  But  whatever  may  have 
been  his  estimate  of  his  own  skill,  it  was  rather 
below  than  above  that  which  others  placed  upon  it. 
The  only  time  that  I  ever  saw  a  shade  of  scorn 
darken  his  face  was  when  two  volunteer  soldiers, 
who  had  just  killed  a  buffalo  for  the  first  time,  un- 
dertook to  instruct  him  as  to  the  best  method  of 
"approaching."  To  borrow  an  illustration  from 
an  opposite  side  of  life,  an  Eton  boy  might  as  well 
have  sought  to  enlighten  Porsons  on  the  formation 
of  a  Greek  verb,  or  a  Fleet  Street  shopkeeper  to 
instruct  Chesterfield  concerning  a  point  of  etiquette. 
Henn,'  always  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  a  sort 
of  prescriptive  right  to  the  buffalo,  and  to  look  upon 


378  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

diem  as  something  belonging  peculiarly  to  himself. 
Nothing  excited  his  indignation  so  much  as  any 
wanton  destruction  committed  among  the  cows,  and 
in  his  \aew  shooting  a  calf  was  a  cardinal  sin. 

Henr\'  Chatillcn  and  Tete  Rouge  were  of  the 
same  age ;  that  is,  about  thirt\'.  Henr\-  was  twice 
as  large,  and  fiilly  six  times  as  strong  as  Tete  Rouge. 
Henry's  fcu:e  was  roughened  by  winds  and  storms  ; 
Tete  Route's  was  bloated  by  shern,- -cobblers  and 
biandy-toddy.  Henry  talked  of  Indians  and  buffalo  ; 
Tete  Rouge  of  theatres  and  oyster-cellars.  Henrj' 
had  led  a  life  of  hardship  and  privation  ;  Tete  Rouge 
never  had  a  whim  which  he  would  not  gratifv-  at  the 
first  moment  he  was  able.  Henr\",  moreover,  was 
the  most  disinterested  man  I  e^  er  saw  ;  while  Tete 
Rouge,  though  equally  good-natured  in  his  way ,  cared 
for  nobody  but  himsel£  Yet  we  would  not  have  lost 
him  on  any  account ;  he  admirably  sen  ed  the  pur- 
pose <rf  a  jester  in  a  feudal  castle  ;  our  camp  would 
have  been  lifeless  without  him.  For  the  past  week 
he  had  £utened  in  a  most  amazing  manner  ;  and,  in- 
deed, this  was  not  at  all  suiprising,  since  his  appetite 
was  most  inordinate.  He  was  eating  from  morning 
till  night ;  half  the  time  he  would  be  at  work  cook- 
ing some  private  repast  for  himself,  and  he  paid  a 
visit  to  the  coffee-pot  eight  or  ten  times  a  day.  His 
ru^iil  and  disconsolate  fiice  became  jo\'ial  and  rubi- 
cund, his  eyes  stood  out  like  a  lobster's,  and  his 
spirits,  whidh  before  were  sunk  to  the  depths  of 
despondency,  were  now  elated  in  proportion  ;  all 
day  he  was  singing,  whistling,  laughing,  and  telling 
stories.  Being  mortally  afraid  of  Jim  Gumey,  he 
k^t  dose  in  the  neighborhood  of  our  tent.  As  he 
had  seen  an  abundance  of  low,  dissipated  life,  and 
had  a  considerable  fimd  of  humor,  his  anecdotes 
were  extremely  amusing,  especially  since  he  never 
hesitated  to  place  himself  in  a  ludicrous  point  of 


THE   BUFFALO-CAMP,  379 

view,  provided  he  could  raise  a  laugh  by  doing  so, 
Tete  Rouge,  however,  was  sometimes  rather  trouble- 
some ;  he  had  an  inveterate  habit  of  pilfering  pro- 
visions at  all  times  of  the  day.  He  set  ridicule  at 
utter  defiance  ;  and  being  without  a  particle  of  self- 
respect,  he  would  never  have  given  over  his  tricks, 
even  if  they  had  drawn  upon  him  the  scorn  of  the 
whole  party.  Now  and  then,  indeed,  something 
worse  than  laughter  fell  to  his  share  ;  on  these  occa- 
sions he  would  exhibit  much  contrition,  but  half  an 
hour  after  we  would  generally  observe  him  stealing 
around  to  the  box  at  the  back  of  the  cart,  and  slyly 
making  off  with  the  provisions  which  Delorier  had 
laid  by  for  supper.  He  was  very  fond  of  smoking, 
but  having  no  tobacco  of  his  own,  we  used  to  pro- 
vide him  with  as  much  as  he  wanted,  a  small  piece 
at  a  time.  At  first  we  gave  him  half  a  pound  to- 
gether ;  but  this  experiment  proved  an  entire  failure, 
for  he  invariably  lost  not  only  the  tobacco,  but  the 
knife  intrusted  to  him  for  cutting  it,  and  a  few 
minutes  after  he  would  come  to  us  with  many  apolo- 
gies and  beg  for  more. 

We  had  been  two  days  at  this  camp,  and  some 
of  the  meat  was  nearly  fit  for  transportation,  when 
a  storm  came  suddenly  upon  us.  About  sunset  the 
whole  sky  grew  as  black  as  ink,  and  the  long  grass 
at  the  river's  edge  bent  and  rose  mournfully  with 
the  first  gusts  of  the  approaching  hurricane.  Mun- 
roe  and  his  two  companions  brought  their  guns 
and  placed  them  under  cover  of  our  tent.  Having 
no  shelter  for  themselves,  they  built  a  fire  of  drift- 
wood that  might  have  defied  a  cataract,  and  wrapped 
in  their  buffalo-robes,  sat  on  the  ground  around  it  to 
bide  the  iuxy  of  the  storm.  Delorier  ensconced 
himself  under  the  cover  of  the  cart.  Shaw  and  I, 
together  with  Henry  and  Tete  Rouge,  crowded  into 
the'  little  tent  ;  but,  first  of  all,  the  dried  meat  was 


38o 


THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 


piled  together  and  well  protected  by  buffalo-robes 
pinned  firmly  to  the  ground.  About  nine  o'clock 
the  storm  broke,  amid  absolute  darkness  ;  it  blew  a 
gale,  and  torrents  of  rain  roared  over  the  boundless 
expanse  of  open  prairie.  Our  tent  was  filled  with 
mist  and  spray  beating  through  the  canvas,  and 
saturating  everything  within.  We  could  only  dis- 
tinguish each  other  at  short  intervals  by  the  dazzling 
flash  of  lightning,  which  displayed  the  whole  waste 
around  us  with  its  momentary  glare.  We  had  our 
fears  for  the  tent  ;  but  for  an  hour  or  two  it  stood 
fast,  until  at  length  the  cap  gave  way  before  a  furi- 
ous blast ;  the  pole  tore  through  the  top,  and  in  an 
instant  we  were  half-suffocated  by  the  cold  and 
dripping  folds  of  the  canvas,  which  fell  down  upon 
us.  Seizing  upon  our  guns,  we  placed  them  erect, 
in  order  to  lift  the  saturated  cloth  above  our  heads. 
In  this  agreeable  situation,  involved  among  wet 
blankets  and  buffalo-robes,  we  spent  several  hours 
of  the  night,  during  which  the  storm  would  not 
abate  for  a  moment,  but  pelted  down  above  our 
heads  with  merciless  fury.  Before  long  the  ground 
beneath  us  became  soaked  with  moisture,  and  the 
water  gathered  there  in  a  pool  two  or  three  inches 
deep  ;  so  that  for  a  considerable  part  of  the  night 
we  were  partially  immersed  in  a  cold  bath.  In 
spite  of  all  this,  Tete  Rouge's  flow  of  spirits  did  not 
desert  him  for  an  instant  ;  he  laughed,  whistled, 
and  sung  in  defiance  of  the  storm,  and  that  night 
he  paid  off  the  long  arrears  of  ridicule  which  he 
owed  us.  While  we  lay  in  silence,  enduring  the 
infliction  with  what  philosophy  we  could  muster, 
Tete  Rouge,  who  was  intoxicated  with  animal  spirits, 
was  cracking  jokes  at  our  expense  by  the  hour 
together.  At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
"  preferring  the  tyranny  of  the  open  night  "  to  such 
a  wretched  shelter,  we  crawled  out  from  beneath  the 


THE  BUFFALO-CAMP.  38 1 

fallen  canvas.  The  wind  had  abated,  but  the  rain 
fell  steadily.  The  fire  of  the  California  men  still 
blazed  amid  the  darkness,  and  we  joined  them  as 
they  sat  around  it.  We  made  ready  some  hot  coffee 
by  way  of  refreshment ;  but  when  some  of  the 
party  sought  to  replenish  their  cups,  it  was  found 
that  Tete  Rouge,  having  disposed  of  his  own  share, 
had  privately  abstracted  the  coffee-pot  and  drank 
up  the  rest  of  the  contents  out  of  the  spout. 

In  the  morning,  to  our  great  joy,  an  unclouded 
sun  rose  upon  the  prairie.  We  presented  rather  a 
laughable  appearance,  for  the  cold  and  clammy 
buckskin,  saturated  with  water,  clung  fast  to  our 
limbs  ;  the  light  wind  and  warm  sunshine  soon 
dried  them  again,  and  then  we  were  all  incased  in 
armor  of  intolerable  rigidity.  Roaming  all  day 
over  the  prairie  and  shooting  two  or  three  bulls  was 
scarcely  enough  to  restore  the  stiffened  leather  to 
its  usual  pliancy. 

/'Besides  Henry  Chatillon,  Shaw  and  I  were  the 
only  hunters  in  the  party.  Munroe  this  morning 
made  an  attempt  to  run  a  buffalo,  but  his  horse 
could  not  come  up  to  the  game.  Shaw  went  out 
with  him,  and,  being  better  mounted,  soon  found 
himself  in  the  midst  of  the  herd.  Seeing  nothing 
but  cows  and  calves  around  him,  he  checked  his 
horse.  An  old  bull  came  galloping  on  the  open 
prairie  at  some  distance  behind,  and  turning,  Shaw 
rode  across  his  path,  levelling  his  gun  as  he  passed, 
and  shooting  him  through  the  shoulder  into  the 
heart.  The  heavy  bullets  of  Shaw's  double-bar- 
relled gun  made  wild  work  wherever  they  struck. 

A  great  flock  of  buzzards  were  usually  soaring 
about  a  few  trees  that  stood  on  the  island  just  below 
our  camp.  Throughout  the  whole  of  yesterday  we 
had  noticed  an  eagle  among  them  ,  to-day  he  was 
still  there  ;  and  Tete  Rouge,  declaring  that  he  would 


382  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

kill  the  bird  of  America,  borrowed  Delorier's  gun 
and  set  out  on  his  unpatriotic  mission.  As  might 
have  been  expected,  the  eagle  suffered  no  great 
harm  at  his  hands.  He  soon  returned,  saying  that 
he  could  not  find  him,  but  had  shot  a  buzzard 
instead.  Being  required  to  produce  the  bird  in 
proof  of  his  assertion,  he  said  he  believed  that  he 
was  not  quite  dead,  but  he  must  be  hurt,  from  the 
swiftness  with  which  he  ilew  off. 

"If  you  want,"  said  Tete  Rouge,  "I'll  go  and 
get  one  of  his  feathers  ;  I  knocked  off  plent)-  of 
them  when  I  shot  him. 

Just  opposite  our  camp  was  another  island  covered 
with  bushes,  and  behind  it  was  a  deep  pool  of  water, 
while  two  or  three  considerable  streams  coursed  over 
the  sand  not  far  off.  I  was  bathing  at  this  place  in 
the  afternoon,  when  a  white  wolf,  larger  than  the 
largest  Newfoundland  dog,  ran  out  from  behind  the 
point  of  the  island,  and  galloped  leisurely  over  the 
sand  not  half  a  stone's  throw  distant.  I  could 
plainly  see  his  red  eyes,  and  the  brisdes  about  his 
snout  ;  he  was  an  ugly  scoundrel,  %Wth  a  bushy  tail, 
large  head,  and  a  most  repulsive  countenance. 
Having  neither  rifle  to  shoot  nor  stone  to  pelt  him 
with,  I  was  looking  eagerly  after  some  missile  for  his 
benefit,  when  the  report  of  a  gun  came  from  the 
camp,  and  the  ball  threw  up  the  sand  just  beyond 
him  ;  at  this  he  gave  a  slight  jump,  and  stretched 
away  so  su-iftly  that  he  soon  dwindled  into  a  mere 
speck  on  the  distant  sand-beds.  The  number  of 
carcasses  that  by  this  time  were  lying  about  the 
prairie  all  around  us  summoned  the  wolves  from 
every  quarter  ;  the  spot  where  Shaw  and  Henr\-  had 
hunted  together  soon  became  their  favorite  resort, 
for  here  about  a  dozen  dead  buffalo  were  fermenting 
under  the  hot  sun.  I  often  used  to  go  over  the 
river  and  watch  them  at  their  meal  ;  bv  lying  undei 


THE  BUFFALO-CAMP.  383 

the  bank  it  was  easy  to  get  a  full  view  of  them. 
Three  ditferent  kinds  were  present  :  there  were  the 
white  wolves  and  the  gray  wolves,  both  extremely 
large,  and  besides  these  the  small  prairie-wolves, 
not  much  bigger  than  spaniels.  They  would  howl 
and  fight  in  a  crowd  around  a  single  carcass,  yet 
they  were  so  watchful,  and  their  senses  so  acute, 
that  I  never  was  able  to  crawl  within  a  fair  shooting- 
distance  ;  whenever  I  attempted  it,  they  would  all 
scatter  at  once  and  glide  silently  away  through  the 
tall  grass.  The  air  above  this  spot  was  always  full 
of  buzzards  or  black  vultures  ;  whenever  the  wolves 
left  a  carcass  they  would  descend  upon  it,  and  cover 
it  so  densely  that  a  rifle-bullet  shot  at  random  among 
the  gormandizing  crowd  would  generally  strike  down 
two  or  three  of  them.  These  birds  would  now  be 
sailing  by  scores  just  above  our  camp,  their  broad 
black  wings  seeming  half-transparent  as  they  ex- 
panded them  against  the  bright  sky.  The  wolves 
and  the  buzzards  thickened  about  us  with  every 
hour,  and  two  or  three  eagles  also  came  into  the 
feast.  I  killed  a  bull  within  rifle-shot  of  the  camp  ; 
that  night  the  wolves  made  a  fearful  howling  close 
at  hand,  and  in  the  morning  the  carcass  was  com- 
pletely hollowed  out  by  these  voracious  feeders. 

•After  we  had  remained  four  days  at  this  camp  we 
prepared  to  leave  it.  We  had  for  our  own  part 
about  five  hundred  pounds  of  dried  meat,  and  the 
California  men  had  prepared  some  three  hundred 
more  ;  this  consisted  of  the  fattest  and  choicest 
parts  of  eight  or  nine  cows,  a  ver\'  small  quantity 
only  being  taken  from  each,  and  the  rest  abandoned 
to  the  wolves.  The  pack-animals  were  laden,  the 
horses  were  saddled,  and  the  mules  harnessed  to 
the  cart.  Even  Tete  Rouge  was  ready  at  last,  and 
slowly  moving  from  the  ground,  we  resumed  our 
journey  eastward.     When  we  had  advanced  about  a 


384  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

mile,  Shaw  missed  a  valuable  hunting-knife  and 
turned  back  in  search  of  it,  thinking  that  he  had  left 
k  at  the  camp.  He  approached  the  place  cautiously, 
fearful  that  Indians  might  be  lurking  about,  for  a 
deserted  camp  is  dangerous  to  return  to.  He  saw 
no  enemy,  but  the  scene  was  a  wild  and  drean-  one  ; 
the  prairie  was  overshadowed  by  dull,  leaden  clouds, 
for  the  day  was  dark  and  gloomy.  The  ashes  of 
the  fires  were  still  smoking  by  the  river-side  ;  the 
grass  around  them  was  trampled  down  by  men  and 
horses,  and  strewn  -with  all  the  htter  of  a  camp. 
Our  departure  had  been  a  gathering-signal  to  the 
birds  and  beasts  of  prey  ;  Shaw  assured  me  that 
literally  dozens  of  wolves  were  prowling  about  the 
smouldering  fires,  while  multitudes  were  roaming 
over  the  prairie  around  ;  they  all  fled  as  he  ap- 
proached, some  running  over  the  sand-beds  and 
some  over  the  grassy  plains.  The  vultures  in  great 
clouds  were  soaring  overhead,  and  the  dead  bull 
near  the  camp  was  completely  blackened  by  the 
flock  that  had  alighted  upon  it  ;  they  flapped  their 
broad  wings,  and  stretched  upward  their  crested 
heads  and  long,  skinny  necks,  fearing  to  remain, 
yet  reluctant  to  leave  their  disgusting  feast.  As  he 
searched  about  the  fires  he  saw  the  wolves  seated 
on  the  distant  hills,  waiting  for  his  departure.  Hav- 
ii^  looked  in  vain  for  his  knife,  he  mounted  again, 
and  I^  the  wolves  and  the  ^Tiltures  to  banquet 
freely  upon  the  carrion  of  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DOWN    THE    ARKANSAS. 

"  They  quitted  not  their  harness  bright, 
Neither  by  day  nor  yet  by  night ; 
They  lay  down  to  rest 
With  corslet  laced, 
Pillowed  on  buckler  cold  and  hard. 
They  carved  at  the  meal 
With  gloves  of  steel, 
And  thev  drank  the  red  wine  through  the  helmet  barred." 
The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 

In  the  summer  of  1846  the  wild  and  lonely  banks 
of  the  Upper  Arkansas  beheld,  for  the  first  time, 
the  passage  of  an  army.  General  Kearney,  on  his 
march  to  Santa  Fe,  adopted  this  route  in  preference 
to  the  old  trail  of  the  Cimarron.  When  we  came 
down,  the  m.ain  body  of  the  troops  had  already 
passed  on  ;  Price's  Missouri  regiment,  however,  was 
still  on  the  way,  having  left  the  frontier  much  later 
than  the  rest ;  and  about  this  time  we  began  to  meet 
them  moving  along  the  trail,  one  or  two  companies 
at  a  time.  No  men  ever  embarked  upon  a  military 
expedition  with  a  greater  love  for  the  work  before 
them  than  the  Missourians  ;  but  if  discipline  and 
subordination  be  the  criterion  of  merit,  these  soldiers 
were  worthless  indeed.  Yet,  when  their  exploits 
have  rung  through  all  .Vmerica,  it  would  be  absurd 
to  deny  that  they  were  excellent  irregular  troops. 
Their  victories  were  gained  in  the  teeth  of  every 
established  precedent  of  warfare  ;  they  were  owing 
to  a  singular  combination  of  militar\-  quahties  in  the 
men  themselves.  Without  discipline  or  a  spirit  of 
subordination,  they  knew  how  to  keep  their  ranks 
and  act  as  one  man.     Doniphan's  regiment  marched 

3S5 


386  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

through  New  Mexico  more  like  a  band  of  free  com- 
panions than  like  the  paid  soldiers  of  a  modem 
government.  WTien  General  Taylor  complimented 
Doniphan  on  his  success  at  Sacramento  and  else- 
where, the  Colonel's  reply  ven,-  well  illustrates  the 
relations  which  subsisted  between  the  officers  and 
men  of  his  command  : 

"  I  don't  know  anything  of  the  manoeuvres.  The 
boys  kept  coming  to  me  to  let  them  charge  ;  and, 
when  I  saw  a  good  opportunity,  I  told  them  they 
might  go.  They  were  off  like  a  shot,  and  that's  all 
I  know  about  it. " " 

The  backwoods  lawyer  was  better  fitted  to  con- 
ciliate the  good  %\"ill  than  to  command  the  obedience 
of  his  men.  There  were  many  sening  under  him 
who,  both  from  character  and  education,  could  better 
have  held  command  than  he. 

At  the  battle  of  Sacramento  his  frontiersmen 
fought  under  even-  possible  disadvantage.  The 
[Mexicans  had  chosen  their  own  position  ;  they  were 
drawn  up  across  the  valley  that  led  to  their  native 
city  of  Chihuahua  ;  their  whole  front  was  covered 
by  intrenchments  and  defended  by  batteries  of  heavy 
cannon  ;  they  outnumbered  the  invaders  five  to  one. 
An  eagle  flew  over  the  Americans,  and  a  deep 
murmur  rose  along  their  lines.  The  enemy's  bat- 
teries opened  ;  long  they  remained  under  fire,  but 
when  at  length  the  word  was  given  they  shouted 
and  ran  fonvard.  In  one  of  the  divisions,  when 
midway  to  the  enemy,  a  drunken  officer  ordered  a 
halt  ;  the  exasperated  men  hesitated  to  obey. 

"Fonvard,  boys  I"  cried  a  private  from  the 
ranks  ;  and  the  Americans,  rushing  like  tigers  upon 
the  enemy,  bounded  o^er  the  breastwork.  Four 
hundred  Mexicans  were  slain  upon  the  spot,  and 
the  rest  fled,  scattering  over  the  plain  like  sheep. 
The  standards,  cannon,  and  baggage  were  taken. 


DOIVX  THE  ARA'AXSAS.  387 

and  among  the  rest  a  wagon  laden  with  cords, 
which  the  Mexicans,  in  the  fulness  of  their  confi- 
dence, had  made  ready  for  tying  the  American 
prisoners. 

Doniphan's  volunteers,  who  gained  this  victory, 
passed  up  with  the  main  army  ;  but  Price"  s  soldiers, 
whom  we  now  met,  were  men  from  the  same  neigh- 
borhood, precisely  similar  in  character,  manners, 
and  appearance.  One  forenoon,  as  we  were  de- 
scending upon  a  ver)-  wide  meadow,  where  we 
meant  to  rest  for  an  hour  or  two,  we  saw  a  dark 
body  of  horsemen  approaching  at  a  distance.  In 
order  to  find  water  we  were  obliged  to  turn  aside  to 
the  river-bank,  a  full  half-mile  from  the  trail.  Here 
we  put  up  a  kind  of  awning,  and  spreading  buffalo- 
robes  on  the  ground,  Shaw  and  1  sat  down  to  smoke 
beneath  it. 

•  •  We  are  going  to  catch  it  now, ' '  said  Shaw  ; 
"  look  at  those  fellows  ;  there'll  be  no  peace  for  us 
here. 

And  in  good  truth  about  half  the  volunteers  had 
straggled  away  from  the  line  of  march,  and  were 
riding  over  the  meadow  toward  us. 

"How  are  you?"  said  the  first  who  came  up, 
alighting  from  his  horse  and  throwing  himself  upon 
the  ground.  The  rest  followed  close,  and  a  score 
of  them  soon  gathered  about  us,  some  lying  at  full 
length,  and  some  sitting  on  horseback.  They  all 
belonged  to  a  company  raised  in  St.  Louis.  There 
were  some  ruffian  faces  among  them,  and  some 
haggard  with  debaucher\- ,  but  on  the  whole  they 
were  e.xtremely  good-looking  men,  superior  beyond 
measure  to  the  ordinary-  rank  and  file  of  an  army. 
Except  that  they  were  booted  to  the  knees,  they 
wore  their  belts  and  military  trappings  over  the 
ordinan.-  dress  of  citizens.  Besides  their  swords 
and  holster-pistols,  they  carried,  slung  from    their 


388  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

saddles,  the  excellent  Springfield  carbines,  loaded 
at  the  breech.  They  inquired  the  character  of  our 
party,  and  were  anxious  to  know  the  prospect  of 
killing  buSialo,  and  the  chance  that  dieir  horses 
would  stand  the  ioumey  to  Santa  Fe.  .\11  this  was 
well  enough,  but  a  moment  after  a  worse  visita- 
tion came  upon  us. 

"How  are  you,  strangers?  whar  are  you  going 
and  whar  are  vou  fi-om  ?"  said  a  fellow,  who  came 
trotting  up  with  an  old  straw  hat  on  his  head.  He 
was  dressed  in  the  coarsest  brown  homespun  cloth. 
His  fcu:e  was  rather  sallow^  from  fever  and  ague,  and 
his  tall  figure,  though  strong  and  sinewy,  was  quite 
thin,  and  had  besides  an  angular  look,  which,  to- 
gether with  his  boorish  seat  on  horseback,  gave  him 
an  appearance  an*^ing  but  giacefid.  Plenty  more 
of  the  same  stamp  were  close  behind  him.  Their 
company  was  raised  in  one  of  the  frontier  counties, 
and  we  soon  had  abundant  e\idence  of  their  rustic 
breeding  ;  dozens  of  them  came  crowding  around, 
pushing  between  our  first  \Tsitors,  and  staring  at  us 
with  unabashed  &ces. 

•  •  Are  you  the  captain  ?' '  asked  one  fellow. 

* '  WTiat"  s  your  business  out  here  ?" '  asked  an- 
other. 

' '  \\Tiar  do  you  Uve  when  you'  re  at  home  ?' "  said 
a  third. 

•  •  1  reckon  you'  re  traders, ' '  surmised  a  fourth  ; 
and  to  crown  the  whole,  one  of  them  came  confi- 
dently to  my  side  and  inquired  in  a  low  voice, 
*  *  WTiat"  s  your  partner' s  name  ?' " 

As  each  new-comer  repeated  the  same  questions 
the  nuisance  became  intolerable.  Our  militar\'  \-is- 
itors  were  soon  di^usted  at  the  concise  nature  of 
our  repUes,  and  we  could  overhear  them  muttering 
curses  against  us.  AMiile  we  sat  smoking,  not  in 
the  best  imaginable  humor,  Tete  Rouge"  s  tongue 


DOIVX  THE  AKA'AXSAS.  389 

was  never  idle.  He  never  forgot  his  militar\-  char- 
acter, and  during  the  whole  irteniew  he  was  inces- 
santly busy  among  his  fellow-soldiers.  At  length 
we  placed  him  on  the  ground  before  us.  and  told 
him  that  he  might  play  the  part  of  spokesman  for 
the  whole.  Tete  Rouge  was  delighted,  and  we  soon 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  talk  and  gabble  at 
such  a  rate  that  the  torrent  of  questions  was  in  a 
great  measure  diverted  from  us.  A  little  while  after, 
to  our  amazement,  we  saw  a  large  cannon  with  four 
horses  come  lumbering  up  behind  the  crowd  ;  and 
the  driver,  who  was  perched  on  one  of  the  animals, 
stretching  his  neck  so  as  to  look  over  the  rest  of  the 
men,  called  out  : 

"  Whar  are  you  from,  and  what's  your  busi- 
ness ?' ' 

The  captain  of  one  of  the  companies  was  among 
our  visitors,  drawn  by  the  same  curiosity  that  had 
attracted  his  men.  Unless  their  faces  belied  them, 
not  a  few  in  the  crowd  might  with  great  advantage 
have  changed  places  with  their  commander. 

"Well,  men."  said  he,  lazily  rising  from  the 
ground  where  he  had  been  lounging,  "  it's  getting 
late,  I  reckon  we  had  better  be  moving."   • 

"  I  shan't  start  yet,  anyhow."  said  one  fellow, 
who  was  lying  half-asleep,  with  his  head  resting  on 
his  arm. 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurn-,  captain,"  added  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"  Well,  have  it  your  own  way  :  we'll  wait  awhile 
longer,"  replied  the  obsequious  commander. 

At  length,  however,  our  visitors  went  straggling 
away  as  they  had  come,  and  we,  to  our  great  relief, 
were  left  alone  again. 

No  one  can  deny  the  intrepid  braver\-  of  these 
men.  their  intelligence  and  the  bold  frankness  of 
their  character,  free  from  all  that  is  mean  and  sor- 


390 


EGOX  TRAIL. 


of  tht      -1 
her 
lea-, 
am :  r  _ 

vaoj.r  1  :  7  V 
mes  "atspeAjL  ^ 
No  one  wai 
depaitnie  of  '. 
odder  cvefj  : 
ba&Io-liide  -^'. 
tlie  juicy  liiiir:: 
plates  and  cr 
ready.     Tete 

fimner  capac  ". 
to  piefix  the  : 
wfaedier  of  k. . 
Mr.  Gomey,  I- 
nex,  ftx  die  £r 
dressed  as  Mr 
conceivh^  a 
who.  in  his  f. 
make  himsel: 
widi  cofAsaz 
knew  no  mec 
a.  duwur^ht  '. 
Tele  Roi^e,  : 
Tete  Roi^e  r 
his  happiest  r 
bnflUo-coat.  : 
die  work^ar.' 
before  him ; 
his  knife  re^ : 
npon  the  bt  r 
pation.     De~ 
rest  of  us  bv  : 


'.ent,  the  extreme  toughness 

T^clines  one  to  finget  their 

:'nem  seon  without  the 

;~  f^r  propnety.  thoi^i 

:>e  found  in  whotse 

-      wh3e  their  feat- 

iny  enteiprise. 

elorier  hf  the 

i;  gettii^ 

■vhitened 

r  "  ddle 

;    :  :    e  tin 


DOWN  THE  ARA'ANSAS.  39 1 

"  How  is  this,  Delorier  ?  You  haven't  given  us 
bread  enough." 

At  this  Delorier' s  placid  face  flew  instantly  into  a 
paroxysm  of  contortions.  He  grinned  with  wrath, 
chattered,  gesticulated,  and  hurled  forth  a  volley  of 
incoherent  words  in  broken  English  at  the  astonished 
Tete  Rouge.  It  was  just  possible  to  make  out  that 
he  was  accusing  him  of  having  stolen  and  eaten  four 
large  cakes  which  had  been  laid  by  for  dinner.  Tete 
Rouge,  utterly  confounded  at  this  sudden  attack, 
stared  at  Delorier  for  a  moment  in  dumb  amaze- 
ment, with  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open.  At  last  he 
found  speech,  and  protested  that  the  accusation  was 
false  ;  and  that  he  could  not  conceive  how  he  had 
offended  Mr.  Delorier,  or  provoked  him  to  use  such 
ungentlemanly  expressions.  The  tempest  of  words 
raged  with  such  fury  that  nothing  else  could  be  heard. 
But  Tete  Rouge,  from  his  greater  command  of  Eng- 
lish, had  a  manifest  advantage  over  Delorier,  who, 
after  sputtering  and  grimacing  for  awhile,  found  his 
words  quite  inadequate  to  the  expression  of  his 
wrath.  He  jumped  up  and  vanished,  jerking  out 
between  his  teeth  one  furious  sacra  enfan  de  grace, 
a  Canadian  title  of  honor,  made  doubly  emphatic  by 
being  usually  applied  together  with  a  cut  of  the  whip 
to  refractory  mules  and  horses. 

The  next  morning  we  saw  an  old  buffalo-bull 
escorting  his  cow  with  two  small  calves  over  the 
prairie.  Close  behind  came  four  or  five  large  white 
wolves,  sneaking  stealthily  through  the  long  meadow- 
grass,  and  watching  for  the  moment  when  one  of  the 
children  should  chance  to  lag  behind  his  parents. 
The  old  bull  kept  well  on  his  guard,  and  faced  about 
now  and  then  to  keep  the  prowling  ruffians  at  a 
distance. 

As  we  approached  our  nooning-place  we  saw  five 
or  six  buffalo  standing  at  the  very  summit  of  a  tall 


392  THE    ORE G OX  TRAIL. 

Muff.  Trotting  fomaid  to  the  :^>ot  where  we  meant 
to  stiop,  I  flung  off  my  saddle  and  turned  my  h<Hse 
looser  By  malring  a  cucoit  under  cxsvcc  ai  some 
rising  ground,  I  reached  die  foot  oi  the  bfaiff  unno- 
ticed, and  cfimbed  up  its  steep  side.  Lying  under 
the  brow  cf  the  declivity,  I  prepared  to  fire  at  the 
bufl^o,  who  stood  on  die  flat  sur£ice  above,  not 
five  yards  distant  Feiliaps  I  was  too  hasty,  for  the 
gleaming  rifle-barrd  levdled  over  the  edge  caught 
their  notice ;  diey  turned  and  ran.  Close  as  they 
woe.  it  was  impossiUe  to  kill  them  when  in  that 
position,  and.  steppii^  upon  the  sununit,  I  pursued 
them  over  the  lugfa  arid  table-land.  It  was  ex- 
tremdy  ringed  and  tntdcen  ;  a  great  sandy  la^-ine 
was  channelled  diroi^[h  it,  with  smaUo- ravine  enter- 
ing 4m  each  side,  like  tributary  streams.  Thebuffido 
scattexed,  and  I  soon  lost  si^;ht  of  most  of  them  as 
they  scutded  away  dirof^;fa  the  sandy  rJunan*; ;  a 
boll  and  a  cow  alone  kept  in  view.  Forawhilethey 
ran  aloi^  the  edge  of  the  great  ravine,  appearing 
and  disaf^iearing  as  they  dived  into  some  r-lia«aii 
and  again  ennerged  hmn  it.  At  last  diey  stretched 
out  iqMHi  the  Inoad  prairie,  a  plain  neariy  flat  and 
almost  devoid  of  verdure,  for  every  short  grass-Uade 
was  dried  and  shrivdled  by  the  glaring  sun.  Now 
and  then  the  aid  bull  would  face  toward  me  ;  what- 
ever he  did  so  I  fidl  to  the  ground  and  lay  motion- 
less. In  tibas  manner  I  chased  them  for  about  two 
miles,  until  at  length  I  heard  in  front  a  de^  hoarse 
beilowii^.  Amomentafier.  a  band  (rf*  about  a  hun- 
dred bulls,  before  hidden  by  a  slight  swdil  of  the 
plain,  came  at  once  into  view.  The  li^[itives  ran 
toward  them.  Instead  oif  mingling  widi  the  band. 
as  I  expected,  diey  passed  direcdy  throngh,  and 
contirmed  their  fli^;hL  At  diis  1  gave  up  the  chase, 
and  kneeling  down,  crawled  to  within  gun-shot  of 
the  bull^  and  with  panting  breath  and  trJckling  Ihow 


DOJl'.V  THE  ARKANSAS.  393 

sat  down  on  the  ground  to  watch  them  ;  my  presence 
did  not  disturb  them  in  the  least.  They  were  not 
feeding,  for,  indeed,  there  was  nothing  to  eat  ;  but 
they  seemed  to  have  chosen  the  parched  and  scorch- 
ing desert  as  the  scene  of  their  amusements.  Some 
were  roHing  on  the  ground  amid  a  cloud  of  dust ; 
others,  with  a  hoarse,  rumbling  bellow,  were  butting 
their  large  heads  together,  while  many  stood  motion- 
less, as  if  quite  inanimate.  Except  their  monstrous 
growth  of  tangled,  grizzly  mane,  thev  had  no  hair  ; 
for  their  old  coat  had  fallen  off  in  the  spring,  and 
their  new  one  had  not  as  yet  appeared.  Sometimes 
an  old  bull  would  step  forward,  and  gaze  at  me  with 
a  grim  and  stupid  countenance  ;  then  he  would  turn 
and  butt  his  next  neighbor  ;  then  he  would  lie  down 
and  roll  over  in  the  dirt,  kicking  his  hoofs  in  the 
air.  When  satisfied  with  this  amusement,  he  would 
jerk  his  head  and  shoulders  upward,  and  resting  on 
his  forelegs,  stare  at  me  in  this  position,  half-blinded 
by  his  mane,  and  his  face  covered  with  dirt  ;  then 
up  he  would  spring  upon  all-fours,  and  shake  his 
dust\-  sides  ;  turning  half-around,  he  would  stand  with 
his  beard  touching  the  ground,  in  an  attitude  of  pro- 
found abstraction,  as  if  reflecting  on  his  puerile  con- 
duct. "You  are  too  ugly  to  live,"  thought  1  ;  and 
aiming  at  the  ugliest,  1  shot  three  of  them  in  succes- 
sion. The  rest  were  not  at  all  discomposed  at  this  ; 
they  kept  on  bellowing  and  butting  and  rolling  on 
the  ground  as  before.  Henry  Chatillon  always  cau- 
tioned us  to  keep  perfectly  quiet  in  the  presence  of 
a  wounded  buffalo,  for  any  movement  is  apt  to 
excite  him  to  make  an  attack  ;  so  I  sat  still  upon  the 
ground,  loading  and  firing  with  as  little  motion  as 
possible.  While  1  was  thus  employed,  a  spectator 
made  his  appearance  :  a  little  antelope  came  run- 
ning up  with  remarkable  gentleness  to  within  fifty 
yards  ;   and  there  it  stood,  its  slender  neck  arched. 


394  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

its  small  horns  thrown  back,  and  its  large  dark  eyes 
gazing  on  me  with  a  look  of  eager  curiosity.  By 
the  side  of  the  shaggy  and  brutish  monsters  before 
me,  it  seemed  like  some  lovely  young  girl  wander- 
ing near  a  den  of  robbers  or  a  nest  of  bearded 
pirates.  The  buffalo  looked  uglier  than  ever.  "Here 
goes  for  another  of  you,"  thought  1,  feeling  in  my 
pouch  for  a  percussion-cap.  Not  a  percussion-cap 
was  there.  My  good  rifle  was  useless  as  an  old  iron 
bar.  One  of  the  wounded  bulls  had  not  yet  fallen, 
and  I  waited  for  some  time,  hoping  every  moment 
that  his  strength  would  fail  him.  He  still  stood  firm, 
looking  grimly  at  me,  and  disregarding  Henry's 
advice,  I  rose  and  walked  away.  Many  of  the  bulls 
turned  and  looked  at  me,  but  the  wounded  brute 
made  no  attack.  I  soon  came  upon  a  deep  ravine 
which  would  give  me  shelter  in  case  of  emergency  ; 
so  I  turned  around  and  threw  a  stone  at  the  bulls. 
They  received  it  with  the  utmost  indifference.  Feel- 
ing myself  insulted  at  their  refusal  to  be  frightened, 
I  swung  my  hat,  shouted,  and  made  a  show  of  run- 
ning toward  them  ;  at  this  they  crowded  together 
and  galloped  off,  leaving  their  dead  and  wounded 
upon  the  field.  As  1  moved  toward  the  camp  I  saw 
the  last  survivor  totter  and  fall  dead.  My  speed  in 
returning  was  wonderfully  quickened  by  the  reflec- 
tion that  the  Pawnees  were  abroad,  and  that  I  was 
defenceless  in  case  of  meeting  with  an  enemy.  I 
saw  no  living  thing,  however,  except  two  or  three 
squalid  old  bulls  scrambling  among  the  sand-hills 
that  flanked  the  great  ravine.  When  I  reached 
camp  the  party  were  nearly  ready  for  the  afternoon 
move. 

We  encamped  that  evening  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  river-bank.  About  midnight,  as  we  all  lay 
asleep  on  the  ground,  the  man  nearest  to  me,  gently 
reaching  out  his  hand,   touched  my  shoulder,  and 


DOIVN   THE   ARKANSAS.  395 

cautioned  me  at  the  same  time  not  to  move.  It  was 
bright  starlight.  Opening  my  eyes  and  slightly  turn- 
ing, I  saw  a  large  white  wolf  moving  stealthily 
around  the  embers  of  our  fire,  with  his  nose  close 
to  the  ground.  Disengaging  my  hand  from  the 
blanket,  1  drew  the  cover  from  my  rifle,  which  lay 
close  at  my  side  ;  the  motion  alarmed  the  wolf,  and 
with  long  leaps  he  bounded  out  of  the  camp.  Jump- 
ing up,  1  fired  after  him,  when  he  was  about  thirty 
yards  distant  ;  the  melancholy  hum  of  the  bullet 
sounded  far  away  through  the  night.  At  the  sharp 
report,  so  suddenly  breaking  upon  the  stillness,  all 
the  men  sprang  up. 

"  You've  killed  him,"  said  one  of  them. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  said  I  ;  "there  he  goes,  run- 
ning along  the  river." 

"  Then  there's  two  of  them.  Don't  you  see  that 
one  lying  out  yonder  ?' ' 

We  went  out  to  it,  and  instead  of  a  dead  white 
wolf,  found  the  bleached  skull  of  a  buffalo.  1  had 
missed  my  mark,  and  what  was  worse,  had  grossly 
violated  a  standing  law  of  the  prairie.  When  in  a 
dangerous  part  of  the  countr)-,  it  is  considered 
highly  imprudent  to  fire  a  gun  after  encamping, 
lest  the  report  should  reach  the  ears  of  the  Indians. 

The  horses  were  saddled  in  the  morning,  and  the 
last  man  had  lighted  his  pipe  at  the  dying  ashes  of 
the  fire.  The  beauty  of  the  day  enlivened  us  all. 
Even  Ellis  felt  its  influence,  and  occasionally  made 
a  remark  as  we  rode  along  ;  and  Jim  Gurney  told 
endless  stories  of  his  cruisings  in  the  United  States 
service.  The  buffalo  were  abundant,  and  at  length 
a  large  band  of  them  went  running  up  the  hills  on 
the  left. 

"Do  you  see  them  buffalo?"  said  Ellis,  "now, 
I'll  bet  any  man  I'll  go  and  kill  one  with  my  yager." 

.And  leaving  his  horse  to  follow  on  with  the  party, 


396  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

he  strode  up  the  hill  after  them.  Henn,'  looked  at 
us  with  his  peculiar  humorous  expression,  and  pro- 
posed that  we  should  follow  Ellis  to  see  how  he 
would  kill  a  fat  cow.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of 
sight  we  rode  up  the  hill  after  him,  and  waited  be- 
hind a  little  ridge  till  we  heard  the  report  of  the 
unfailing  yager.  Mounting  to  the  top.  we  saw  EHis 
clutching  his  favorite  weapon  with  both  hands,  and 
staring  after  the  bulialo,  who,  one  and  all,  were  gal- 
loping off  at  full  speed.  As  we  descended  the  hill 
we  saw  the  party  straggling  along  the  trail  below. 
When  we  joined  them,  another  scene  of  amateur 
hunting  awaited  us.  I  forgot  to  say  that  when  we 
met  the  volunteers  Tete  Rouge  had  obtained  a  horse 
from  one  of  them,  in  exchange  for  his  mule,  whom 
he  feared  and  detested.  This  horse  he  christened 
James.  James,  though  not  worth  so  much  as  the 
mule,  was  a  large  and  strong  animal.  Tete  Rouge 
was  ver)'  proud  of  his  new  acquisition,  and  sud- 
denly became  ambitious  to  run  a  buffalo  with  him. 
At  his  request  I  lent  him  my  pistols,  though  not 
without  great  misgivings,  since  when  Tete  Rouge 
hunted  buffalo  the  pursuer  was  in  more  danger  than 
the  pursued.  He  hung  the  holsters  at  his  saddle- 
bow ;  and  now,  as  we  passed  along,  a  band  of  bulls 
left  their  grazing  in  the  meadow  and  galloped  in  a 
long  file  across  the  trail  in  front. 

"Now's  vour  chance,  Tete  ;  come,  let's  see  vou 
kill  a  bull."' 

'  Thus  urged,  the  hunter  cried,  "get  up!"  and 
James,  obedient  to  the  signal,  cantered  deliberately 
forward  at  an  abominably  uneasy  gait.  Tete  Rouge, 
as  we  contemplated  him  from  behind,  made  a  most 
remarkable  figure.  He  still  wore  the  old  bufialo- 
coat ;  his  blanket,  which  was  tied  in  a  loose  bundle 
behind  his  saddle,  went  jolting  from  one  side  to  the 
other,   and  a  large  tin  canteen,  half-full  of  water, 


UBRABT  or 


DOWN   THE  ARKANSAS.  39/ 

which  hung  from  his  pommel,  was  jerked  about  his 
leg  in  a  manner  which  greatly  embarrassed  him. 

"  Let  out  your  horse,  man  ;  lay  on  your  whip  !" 
we  called  out  to  him.  The  buffalo  were  getting 
farther  off  at  every  instant.  James,  being  am- 
bitious to  mend  his  pace,  tugged  hard  at  the  rein, 
and  one  of  his  rider's  boots  escaped  from  the  stirrup. 

"Whoa!  I  say,  whoa!"  cried  Tete  Rouge,  in 
great  perturbation,  and  after  much  effort  James's 
progress  was  arrested.  The  hunter  came  trotting 
back  to  the  party,  disgusted  with  buffalo-running, 
and  he  was  received  with  overwhelming  congratula- 
tions. 

"Too  good  a  chance  to  lose,"  said  Shaw,  point- 
ing to  another  band  of  bulls  on  the  left.  We  lashed 
our  horses  and  galloped  upon  them.  Shaw  killed 
one  with  each  barrel  of  his  gun.  I  separated  an- 
other from  the  herd  and  shot  him.  The  small  bul- 
let of  the  rifle-pistol  striking  too  far  back,  did  not 
immediately  take  effect,  and  the  bull  ran  on  with 
unabated  speed.  Again  and  again  I  snapped  the 
remaining  pistol  at  him.  1  primed  it  afresh  three 
or  four  times,  and  each  time  it  missed  fire,  for  the 
touch-hole  was  clogged  up.  Returning  it  to  the 
holster,  1  began  to  load  the  empty  pistol,  still  gal- 
loping by  the  side  of  the  bull.  By  this  time  he  was 
grown  desperate.  The  foam  flew  from  his  jaws  and 
his  tongue  lolled  out.  Before  the  pistol  was  loaded 
he  sprang  upon  me,  and  followed  up  his  attack  with 
a  furious  rush.  The  only  alternative  was  to  run 
away  or  be  killed.  I  took  to  flight,  and  the  bull, 
bristling  with  fury,  pursued  me  closely.  The  pistol 
was  soon  ready,  and  then  looking  back,  1  saw  his 
head  five  nr  six  yards  behind  my  horse's  tail.  To 
fire  at  it  would  be  useless,  for  a  bullet  flattens  against 
the  adamantine  skull  of  a  buffalo-bull.  Inclining 
my  body  to  the  left,  I  turned  my  horse  in  that  direc- 


t-FBRARY 


398  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

tion  as  sharply  as  his  speed  would  permit.  The 
bull,  rushing  blindly  on  with  great  force  and  weight, 
did  not  turn  so  quickly.  As  I  looked  back,  his 
neck  and  shoulder  were  exposed  to  view  ;  turning  in 
the  saddle,  I  shot  a  bullet  through  them  obliquely 
into  his  vitals.  He  gave  over  the  chase  and  soon 
fell  to  the  ground.  An  English  tourist  represents  a 
situation  like  this  as  one  of  imminent  danger  ;  this 
is  a  great  mistake  ;  the  bull  never  pursues  long, 
and  the  horse  must  be  wretched,  indeed,  that  cannot 
keep  out  of  his  way  for  two  or  three  minutes. 

We  were  now  come  to  a  part  of  the  country 
where  we  were  bound  in  common  prudence  to  use . 
every  possible  precaution.  We  mounted  guard  at 
night,  each  man  standing  in  his  turn  ;  and  no  one 
ever  slept  without  drawing  his  rifle  close  to  his  side 
or  folding  it  with  him  in  his  blanket.  One  morning 
our  vigilance  was  stimulated  by  our  finding  traces 
of  a  large  Comanche  encampment.  Fortunately 
for  us,  however,  it  had  been  abandoned  nearly  a 
week.  On  the  next  evening  we  found  the  ashes  of 
a  recent  fire,  which  gave  us  at  the  time  some  un- 
easiness. At  length  we  reached  "The  Caches,"  a 
place  of  dangerous  repute  ;  and  it  had  a  most  dan- 
gerous appearance,  consisting  of  sand-hills  every- 
where broken  by  ravines  and  deep  chasms.  Here 
we  found  the  grave  of  Swan,  killed  at  this  place, 
probably  by  the  Pawnees,  two  or  three  weeks  before. 
His  remains,  more  than  once  violated  by  the  Indians 
and  the  wolves,  were  suffered  at  length  to  remain 
undisturbed  in  their  wild  burial-place. 

For  several  days  we  met  detached  companies  of 
Price's  regiment.  Horses  would  often  break  loose 
at  night  from  their  camps.  One  afternoon  we  picked 
up  three  of  these  stragglers  quietly  grazing  along 
the  river.  After  we  came  to  camp  that  evening, 
Jim  Gurney  brought  news  that  more  of  them  were 


DOIVX  THE  ARKANSAS.  399 

in  sight.  It  was  nearly  dark,  and  a  cold,  drizzling 
rain  had  set  in  ;  but  we  all  turned  out,  and  after  an 
hour's  chase  nine  horses  were  caught  and  brought 
in.  One  of  them  was  equipped  with  saddle  and 
bridle  ;  pistols  were  hanging  at  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle,  a  carbine  was  slung  at  its  side,  and  a  blanket 
rolled  up  behind  it.  In  the  morning,  glorying  in 
our  valuable  prize,  we  resumed  our  journey,  and 
our  cavalcade  presented  a  much  more  imposing 
appearance  than  ever  before.  We  kept  on  till  the 
afternoon,  when,  far  behind,  three  horsemen  ap- 
peared on  the  horizon.  Coming  on  at  a  hand- 
gallop,  they  soon  overtook  us,  and  claimed  all  the 
horses  as  belonging  to  themselves  and  others  of 
their  company.  They  were,  of  course,  given  up, 
very  much  to  the  mortification  of  Ellis  and  Jim 
Gurney. 

Our  own  horses  now  showed  signs  of  fatigue,  and 
we  resolved  to  give  them  half  a  day's  rest.  We 
stopped  at  noon  at  a  grassy  spot  by  the  river.  After 
dinner  Shaw  and  Henry  went  out  to  hunt  ;  and 
while  the  men  lounged  about  the  camp,  I  lay  down 
to  read  in  the  shadow  of  the  cart.  Looking  up,  I 
saw  a  bull  grazing  alone  on  the  prairie,  more  than  a 
mile  distant.  1  was  tired  of  reading,  and  taking  my 
rifle  I  walked  toward  him.  As  I  came  near,  I 
crawled  upon  the  ground  until  I  approached  to 
within  a  hundred  yards  ;  here  I  sat  down  upon  the 
grass  and  waited  till  he  should  turn  himself  into  a 
proper  position  to  receive  his  death-wound.  He 
was  a  grim  old  veteran.  His  loves  and  his  battles 
were  over  for  that  season,  and  now,  gaunt  and  war- 
worn, he  h.id  withdrawn  from  the  herd  to  graze  by 
himself  and  recruit  his  exhausted  strength.  He  was 
miserably  emaciated  ;  his  mane  was  all  in  tatters  ;  his 
hide  was  bare  and  rough  as  an  elephant's,  and  cov- 
ered with  dried  patches  of  the  mud  in  which  he  had 


400  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

been  wallowing.  He  showed  all  his  ribs  whenever 
he  moved.  He  looked  like  some  grizzly  old  ruffian 
grown  gray  in  blood  and  violence,  and  scowling  on 
all  the  world  from  his  misanthropic  seclusion.  The 
old  savage  looked  up  when  1  first  approached,  and 
gave  me  a  fierce  stare  ;  then  he  fell  to  grazing  again 
with  an  air  of  contemptuous  indifference.  The  mo- 
ment after,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  he 
threw  up  his  head,  faced  quickly  about,  and,  to  my 
amazement,  came  at  a  rapid  trot  directly  toward  me. 
I  was  strongly  impelled  to  get  up  and  run,  but  this 
would  have  been  very  dangerous.  Sitting  quite 
still,  I  aimed,  as  he  came  on,  at  the  thin  part  of  the 
skull  above  the  nose.  After  he  had  passed  over 
about  three-quarters  of  the  distance  between  us,  I 
was  on  the  point  of  firing,  when,  to  my  great  satis- 
faction, he  stopped  short.  1  had  full  opportunity  of 
studying  his  countenance  ;  his  whole  front  was  cov- 
ered with  a  huge  mass  of  coarse,  matted  hair,  which 
hung  so  low  that  nothing  but  his  two  forefeet  were 
visible  beneath  it  ;  his  short,  thick  horns  were  blunted 
and  split  to  the  very  roots  in  his  various  battles,  and 
across  his  nose  and  forehead  were  two  or  three  large 
white  scars,  which  gave  him  a  grim,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  a  whimsical  appearance.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  stood  there  motionless  for  a  full  quarter 
of  an  hour,  looking  at  me  through  the  tangled  locks 
of  his  mane.  For  my  part,  I  remained  as  quiet  as 
he,  and  looked  quite  as  hard  ;  I  felt  greatly  inclined 
to  come  to  terms  with  him.  "  My  friend,"  thought 
I,  "if  you'll  let  me  off,  I'll  let  you  off."  At  length 
he  seemed  to  have  abandoned  any  hostile  design. 
Ver)'  slowly  and  deliberately  he  began  to  turn  about ; 
little  by  little  his  side  came  into  view,  all  beplastered 
with  mud.  It  was  a  tempting  sight.  I  forgot  my 
prudent  intentions,  and  fired  my  rifle  ;  a  pistol  would 
have  sened  at  that  distance.      Round  spun  old  bull 


DOWN  THE  ARKANSAS.  4OI 

like  a  top,  and  away  he  galloped  over  the  prairie. 
He  ran  some  distance,  and  even  ascended  a  con- 
siderable hill,  before  he  lay  down  and  died.  After 
shooting  another  bull  among  the  hills,  I  went  back 
to  camp. 

At  noon,  on  the  fourteenth  of  September,  a  very 
large  Santa  Fe  caravan  came  up.  The  plain  was 
covered  with  the  long  files  of  their  white-topped 
wagons,  the  close  black  carriages  in  which  the 
traders  travel  and  sleep,  large  droves  of  animals, 
and  men  on  horseback  and  on  foot.  They  all 
stopped  on  the  meadow  near  us.  Our  diminutive 
cart  and  handful  of  men  made  but  an  insignificant 
figure  by  the  side  of  their  wide  and  bustling  camp. 
Tete  Rouge  went  over  to  visit  them,  and  soon  came 
back  with  half  a  dozen  biscuits  in  one  hand,  and  a 
bottle  of  brandy  in  the  other.  I  inquired  where  he  got 
them.  "Oh,"  said  Tete  Rouge,  "  1  know  some  of 
the  traders.  Dr.  Dobbs  is  there  besides. "  1  asked 
who  Dr.  Dobbs  might  be.  "One  of  our  St.  Louis 
doctors,"  replied  Tete  Rouge.  For  two  days  past  I 
had  been  severely  attacked  by  the  same  disorder 
which  had  so  greatly  reduced  my  strength  when  at 
the  mountains  ;  at  this  time  1  was  suffering  not  a 
little  from  the  sudden  pain  and  weakness  which  it 
occasioned.  Tete  Rouge,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries, 
declared  that  Dr.  Dobbs  was  a  physician  of  the 
first  standing.  Without  at  all  believing  him,  1  re- 
solved to  consult  this  eminent  practitioner.  Walk- 
ing over  to  the  camp,  1  found  him  lying  sound 
asleep  under  one  of  the  wagons.  He  ofifered  in  his 
own  person  but  an  indifferent  specimen  of  his  skill, 
for  it  was  five  months  since  I  had  seen  so  cadaverous 
a  face.  His  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  his  yellow  hair 
was  all  in  disorder  ;  one  of  his  arms  supplied  the 
place  of  a  pillow  ;  his  pantaloons  were  wrinkled 
half-way  up  to  his  knees,  and  he  was  covered  with 
26 


402  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

little  bits  of  grass  and  straw,  upon  which  he  had 
rolled  in  his  uneasy  slumber.  A  Mexican  stood 
near,  and  I  made  him  a  sign  that  he  should  touch 
the  doctor.  Up  sprang  the  learned  Dobbs,  and 
sitting  upright,  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  about 
him  in  great  bewilderment.  I  regretted  the  neces- 
sity of  disturbing  him,  and  said  1  had  come  to  ask 
professional  advice. 

"Your  system,  sir,  is  in  a  disordered  state,"  said 
he,  solemnly,  after  a  short  examination. 

I  inquired  what  might  be  the  particular  species  of 
disorder. 

' '  Evidently  a  morbid  action  of  the  hver, ' '  replied 
the  medical  man  ;  "  I  will  give  you  a  prescription. 

Repairing  to  the  back  of  one  of  the  covered 
wagons,  he  scrambled  in  ;  for  a  moment  1  could  see 
nothing  of  him  but  his  boots.  At  length  he  pro- 
duced a  box  which  he  had  extracted  from  some  dark 
recess  within,  and  opening  it,  he  presented  me  ■with 
a  folded  paper  of  some  size.  "WTiat  is  it?"  said 
I.      "  Calomel,"  said  the  doctor. 

Under  the  circumstances  I  would  have  taken 
almost  anything.  There  was  not  enough  to  do  me 
much  harm,  and  it  might  possibly  do  good  ;  so  at 
camp  that  night  I  took  the  poison  instead  of  supper. 

That  camp  is  worthy  of  notice.  The  traders 
warned  us  not  to  follow  the  main  trail  along  the 
river,  ' '  unless, ' '  as  one  of  them  observed,  ' '  you 
want  to  have  your  throats  cut  I"  The  river  at  this 
place  makes  a  bend  ;  and  a  smaller  trail,  known  as 
"  the  Ridge-path,"  leads  directly  across  the  prairie 
from  point  to  point,  a  distance  of  sixt}-  or  seventh' 
miles. 

We  followed  this  trail,  and  after  travelling  seven 
or  eight  miles,  we  came  to  a  small  stream,  where 
we  encamped.  Our  position  was  not  chosen  with 
much  forethought  or  military  skill.     The  water  was 


DOIVN   THE  AHA'AXSAS.  403 

in  a  deep  hollow,  with  steep,  high  banks  ;  on  the 
grassy  bottom  of  this  hollow  we  picketed  our  horses, 
while  we  ourselves  encamped  upon  the  barren  prairie 
just  above.  The  opportunity-  was  admirable  either 
for  driving  off  our  horses  or  attacking  us.  After 
dark,  as  Tete  Rouge  was  sitting  at  supper,  we 
obser\ed  him  pointing,  with  a  face  of  speechless 
horror,  over  the  shoulder  of  Henr\-,  who  was  oppo- 
site to  him.  Aloof  amid  the  darkness  appeared  a 
gigantic  black  apparition,  solemnly  swaying  to  and 
fro  as  it  advanced  steadily  upon  us.  Henn,-,  half- 
vexed  and  half-amused,  jumped  up,  spread  out  his 
arms,  and  shouted.  The  invader  was  an  old  buffalo- 
bull,  who,  with  characteristic  stupidit}-,  was  walking 
directly  into  camp.  It  cost  some  shouting  and 
swinging  of  hats  before  we  could  bring  him  first  to 
a  halt  and  then  to  a  rapid  retreat. 

That  night  the  moon  was  full  and  bright  ;  but  as 
the  black  clouds  chased  rapidly  over  it,  we  were  at 
one  moment  in  hght  and  at  the  next  in  darkness. 
As  the  evening  advanced,  a  thunder-storm  came  up  ; 
it  struck  us  with  such  violence  that  the  tent  would 
have  been  blown  over  if  we  had  not  interposed  the 
cart  to  break  the  force  of  the  wind.  At  length  it 
subsided  to  a  steady  rain.  I  lay  awake  through 
nearly  the  whole  night,  listening  to  its  dull  patter 
upon  the  canvas  above.  The  moisture,  which  filled 
the  tent  and  trickled  from  ever}thing  in  it,  did  not 
add  to  the  comfort  of  the  situation.  About  twelve 
o'clock  Shaw  went  out  to  stand  guard  amid  the  rain 
and  pitch  darkness.  Munroe,  the  most  vigilant  as 
well  as  one  of  the  bravest  among  us,  was  also  on 
the  alert.  When  about  two  hours  had  passed,  Shaw 
came  silently  in,  and  touching  Henr\-,  called  him  in 
a  low,  quick  voice  to  come  out.  "  What  is  it?"  I 
asked.  "Indians,  I  believe,  "  whispered  Shaw; 
"  but  lie  still  ;   I'll  call  you  if  there's  a  fight." 


404  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

He  and  Henry  went  out  together.  I  took  the 
cover  from  my  rifle,  put  a  fresh  percussion-cap  upon 
it,  and  then,  being  in  much  pain,  lay  down  again. 
In  about  five  minutes  Shaw  came  in  again.  "All 
right,"  he  said,  as  he  lay  down  to  sleep.  Henry 
was  now  standing  guard  in  his  place.  He  told  me 
in  the  morning  the  particulars  of  the  alarm. 
Munroe's  watchful  eye  discovered  some  dark  objects 
down  in  the  hollow,  among  the  horses,  like  men 
creeping  on  all-fours.  Lying  flat  on  their  faces,  he 
and  Shaw  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  bank,  and 
were  soon  convinced  that  what  they  saw  were 
Indians.  Shaw  silently  withdrew  to  call  Henry, 
and  they  all  lay  watching  in  the  same  position. 
Henry's  eye  is  one  of  the  best  on  the  prairie.  He 
detected  after  a  while  the  true  nature  of  the  moving 
objects  ;  they  were  nothing  but  wolves  creeping 
among  the  horses. 

It  is  ver)'  singular  that  when  picketed  near  a  camp 
horses  seldom  show  any  fear  of  such  an  intrusion. 
The  wolves  appear  to  have  no  other  object  than 
that  of  gnawing  the  trail-ropes  of  raw-hide  by  which 
the  animals  are  secured.  Several  times  in  the 
course  of  the  journey  my  horse's  trail-rope  was 
bitten  in  two  bv  these  nocturnal  visitors. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE    SETTLEMENTS. 

"  And  some  are  in  a  far  countree. 
And  some  all  restlessly  at  home  ; 
But  never  more,  ah  never,  we 

Shall  meet  to  revel  and  to  roam." 

Siege  of  Corinth. 

The  next  day  was  extremely  hot,   and  we  rode 
from  morning  till  night  without  seeing  a  tree  or  a 


THE   SETTLE MEXTS.  405 

bush  or  a  drop  of  water.  Our  horses  and  mules 
sutfered  much  more  than  we,  but  as  sunset  ap- 
proached, they  pricked  up  their  ears  and  mended 
their  pace.  Water  was  not  far  otT.  When  we  came 
to  the  descent  of  the  broad,  shallow  valley  where  it 
lay,  an  unlooked-for  sight  awaited  us.  The  stream 
ghstened  at  the  bottom,  and  along  its  banks  were 
pitched  a  multitude  of  tents,  while  hundreds  of 
cattle  were  feeding  over  the  meadows.  Bodies  of 
troops,  both  horse  and  foot,  and  long  trains  of 
wagons,  with  men,  women,  and  children,  were 
moving  over  the  opposite  ridge  and  descending  the 
broad  declivity  in  front.  These  were  the  Mormon 
battalion  in  the  service  of  the  government,  together 
with  a  considerable  number  of  Missouri  volunteers. 
The  Mormons  were  to  be  paid  off  in  California,  and 
they  were  allowed  to  bring  with  them  their  families 
and  property.  There  was  something  ven,-  striking 
in  the  half-military,  half-patriarchal  appearance  of 
these  armed  fanatics,  thus  on  their  way,  with  their 
wives  and  children,  to  found,  it  might  be,  a  Mormon 
empire  in  California.  We  were  much  more  aston- 
ished than  pleased  at  the  sight  before  us.  In  order 
to  find  an  unoccupied  camping-ground  we  were 
obliged  to  pass  a  quarter  of  a  mile  up  the 
stream,  and  here  we  were  soon  beset  by  a 
swarm  of  Mormons  and  Missourians.  The  United 
States  officer  in  command  of  the  whole  came 
also  to  visit  us,  and  remained  some  time  at  our 
camp. 

In  the  morning  the  country-  was  covered  with 
mist.  We  were  always  early  risers,  but  before  we 
were  ready  the  voices  of  men  driving  in  the  cattle 
sounded  all  around  us.  As  we  passed  above  their 
camp  we  saw,  through  the  obscurity,  that  the  tents 
were  falling  and  the  ranks  rapidly  forming  ;  and 
mingled  with  the  cries  of  women  and  children,  the 


406  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

rolling  of  the  Mormon  drums  and  the  clear  blast  of 
their  trumpets  sounded  through  the  mist. 

From  that  time  to  the  journey' s  end  we  met  almost 
ever}'  day  long  trains  of  government  wagons  laden 
■with  stores  for  the  troops,  and  crawhng  at  a  snail's 
\y'  pace  toward  Santa  Fe. 

Tete  Rouge  had  a  mortal  antipathy  to  danger,  but 
on  a  foraging  expedition  one  evening  he  achieved  an 
adventure  more  perilous  than  had  yet  befallen  any 
man  in  the  party.  The  night  after  we  left  ' '  the  Ridge- 
path  ' '  we  encamped  close  to  the  river.  At  sunset  we 
saw  a  train  of  wagons  encamping  on  the  trail,  about 
three  miles  off ;  and  though  we  saw  them  distinctly, 
our  little  cart,  as  it  afterward  proved,  entirely  escaped 
their  view.  For  some  days  Tete  Rouge  had  been 
longing  eagerly  after  a  dram  of  whiskey.  So,  re- 
solving to  improve  the  present  opportunity,  he 
mounted  his  horse  James,  slung  his  canteen  over 
his  shoulder,  and  set  forth  in  search  of  his  favorite 
liquor.  Some  hours  passed  without  his  returning. 
We  thought  that  he  was  lost,  or  perhaps  that  some 
stray  Indian  had  snapped  him  up.  \Miile  the  rest 
fell  asleep  I  remained  on  guard.  Late  at  night  a 
tremulous  voice  saluted  me  from  the  darkness,  and 
Tete  Rouge  and  James  soon  became  visible  ad- 
vancing toward  the  camp.  Tete  Rouge  was  in 
much  agitation  and  big  with  some  important  tidings. 
Sitting  down  on  the  shaft  of  the  cart,  he  told  the 
following  stor}-  : 

When  he  left  the  camp  he  had  no  idea,  he  said, 
how  late  it  was.  By  the  time  he  approached  the 
wagoners  it  was  perfectly  dark  ;  and  as  he  saw  them 
all  sitting  around  their  fires  within  the  circle  of 
wagons,  their  guns  laid  by  their  sides,  he  thought 
he  might  as  well  give  warning  of  his  approach,  in 
order  to  prevent  a  disagreeable  mistake.  Raising 
his  voice  to  the  highest  pitch,  he  screamed  out  in 


THE   SETTLEMENTS.  407 

prolonged  accents,  "  camp  ahoy  !"  This  eccentric 
salutation  produced  anything  but  the  desired  result. 
Hearing  such  hideous  sounds  proceeding  from  the 
outer  darkness,  the  wagoners  thought  that  the  whole 
Pawnee  nation  were  about  to  break  in  and  take 
their  scalps.  Up  they  sprang,  staring  with  terror. 
Each  man  snatched  his  gun  ;  some  stood  behind  the 
wagons  ;  some  threw  themselves  flat  on  the  ground, 
and  in  an  instant  twenty  cocked  muskets  were  lev- 
elled full  at  the  horrified  Tete  Rouge,  who  just  then 
began  to  be  visible  through  the  darkness. 

"  Thar  they  come  !"  cried  the  master-wagoner; 
"  fire  !  fire  !     Shoot  that  feller." 

"  No,  no  !"  screamed  Tete  Rouge,  in  an  ecstasy 
of  fright  ;  "  don't  fire,  don't ;  I'm  a  friend,  I'm  an 
American  citizen  !" 

"  You're  a  friend,  be  you  .''"  cried  a  gruff  voice 
from  the  wagons  ;  ' '  then  what  are  you  yelling  out 
thar  for,  like  a  wild  Injun  ?  Come  along  up  here  if 
you're  a  man." 

"  Keep  your  guns  p'inted  at  him,"  added  the 
master-wagoner  ;    "  maybe  he's  a  decoy,  like." 

Tete  Rouge,  in  utter  bewilderment,  made  his  ap- 
proach, with  the  gaping  muzzles  of  the  muskets 
still  before  his  eyes.  He  succeeded  at  last  in  ex- 
plaining his  character  and  situation,  and  the  Missou- 
rians  admitted  him  into  camp.  He  got  no  whiskey  ; 
but  as  he  represented  himself  as  a  great  invalid,  and 
suffering  much  from  coarse  fare,  they  made  up  a 
contribution  for  him  of  rice,  biscuit,  and  sugar  from 
their  own  rations. 

In  the  morning,  at  breakfast,  Tete  Rouge  once 
more  related  this  story.  We  hardly  knew  how 
much  of  it  to  believe,  though,  after  some  cross- 
questioning,  we  failed  to  discover  any  flaw  in  the 
narrative.  Passing  by  the  wagoner's  camp,  they 
confirmed  Tete  Rouge's  account  in  every  particular. 


408  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

"I  wouldn't  have  been  in  that  feller's  place," 
said  one  of  them,  ' '  for  the  biggest  heap  of  money 
in  Missouri." 

To  Tete  Rouge's  great  wrath  they  expressed  a 
firm  conviction  that  he  was  crazy.  We  left  them 
after  giving  them  the  advice  not  to  trouble  them- 
selves about  war-whoops  in  the  future,  since  they 
would  be  apt  to  feel  an  Indian's  arrow  before  they 
heard  his  voice. 

A  day  or  two  after  we  had  an  adventure  of  an- 
other sort  with  a  party  of  wagoners.  Henr}-  and  I 
rode  forward  to  hunt.  After  that  day  there  was  no 
probability  that  we  should  meet  with  buffalo,  and 
we  were  anxious  to  kill  one,  for  the  sake  of  fresh 
meat.  They  were  so  wild  that  we  hunted  all  the 
morning  in  vain,  but  at  noon,  as  we  approached 
Cow  Creek,  we  saw  a  large  band  feeding  near  its 
margin.  Cow  Creek  is  densely  lined  with  trees 
which  intercept  the  view  beyond,  and  it  runs,  as  we 
aftenvard  found,  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  trench. 
We  approached  by  riding  along  the  bottom  of  a 
ravine.  When  we  were  near  enough,  I  held  the 
horses  while  Henr\'  crept  toward  the  buffalo.  1  saw 
him  take  his  seat  within  shooting  distance,  prepare 
his  rifle,  and  look  about  to  select  his  victim.  The 
death  of  a  fat  cow  was  certain,  when  suddenly  a 
great  smoke  arose  from  the  bed  of  the  creek,  with  a 
rattling  volley  of  musketn,-.  A  score  of  long-legged 
jNIissourians  leaped  out  from  among  the  trees  and 
ran  after  the  buffalo,  who  one  and  all  took  to  their 
heels  and  vanished.  These  fellows  had  crawled  up 
the  bed  of  the  creek  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  buffalo.  Never  was  there  a  fairer  chance  for  a 
shot.  They  were  good  marksmen  ;  all  cracked 
away  at  once,  and  yet  not  a  buffalo  fell.  In  fact,  the 
animal  is  so  tenacious  of  life  that  it  requires  no  little 
knowledge  of  anatomy  to  kill  it,  and  it  is  verj^  sel- 


THE   SETTLE  ME  XTS.  409 

dom  that  a  novice  succeeds  in  his  first  attempt  at 
' '  approaching."  The  balked  Missourians  were  ex- 
cessively mortified,  especially  when  Henr\-  told  them 
that  if  they  had  kept  quiet  he  would  have  killed 
meat  enough  in  ten  minutes  to  feed  their  whole 
party.  Our  friends,  who  were  at  no  great  distance, 
hearing  such  a  formidable  fusilade,  thought  the  In- 
dians had  fired  the  volley  for  our  benefit.  Shaw 
came  galloping  on  to  reconnoitre  and  learn  if  we 
were  yet  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

At  Cow  Creek  we  found  the  very  welcome 
novelty  of  ripe  grapes  and  plums,  which  grew 
there  in  abundance.  At  the  Little  Arkansas,  not 
much  farther  on,  we  saw  the  last  buffalo,  a  miser- 
able old  bull,  roaming  over  the  prairie  alone  and 
melancholy. 

From  this  time  forward  the  character  of  the  coun- . 
tr}'  was  changing  every  day.  We  had  left  behind 
us  the  great  arid  deserts,  meagerly  covered  by 
the  tufted  buffalo-grass,  with  its  pale  green  hue  and 
its  short  shrivelled  blades.  The  plains  before  us  were 
carpeted  with  rich  and  verdant  herbage  sprinkled 
with  flowers.  In  place  of  buffalo  we  found  plenr\-  of 
prairie-hens,  and  we  bagged  them  by  dozens  without 
leaving  the  trail.  In  three  or  four  days  we  saw  before 
us  the  broad  woods  and  the  emerald  meadows  of 
Council  Grove,  a  scene  of  striking  luxuriance  and 
beauty.  It  seemed  like  a  new  sensation  as  we  rode 
beneath  the  resounding  arches  of  these  noble  woods. 
The  trees  were  ash,  oak,  elm,  maple,  and  hickor}-, 
their  mighty  limbs  deeply  overshadowing  the  path, 
while  enormous  grape-vines  were  entwined  among 
them,  purple  with  fruit.  The  shouts  of  our  scattered 
part)-,  and  now  and  then  a  report  of  a  rifle  rang 
amid  the  breathing  stillness  of  the  forest.  We  rode 
forth  again  with  regret  into  the  broad  light  of  the 
open  prairie.     Little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  now 


4IO  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

sqmated  us  from  die  frontier  settkanents.  The 
whole  intervenii^  coontnr  was  a  succesaon  erf  ver- 
dant prairies,  riang  in  broad  swells  and  relieved  bjr 
trees  clustering  like  an  oaas  around  smne  spring,  or 
frillowing  die  course  d  a.  stream  along  some  fertile 
hollow.  These  are  the  prairies  of  the  poet  and  the 
novelist.  We  had  left  danger  behind  us.  Xodiing 
was  to  be  fieared  from  die  Indians  of  this  r^on — the 
Sacs  and  FatseSkJb^-Kansas,  an4tb£LDsag£s.  We 
had  met  with  signal  good  fortune.  Althot^;h  for  five 
months  we  had  been  travelling  with  an  insufficient 
force  duongh  a  country  where  we  woe  at  any  nio- 
ment  liable  to  depredationp  not  a  single  jmimal  had 
been  stolen  frmn.  us.  And  our  only  loss  had  been 
one  old  mule  bitten  to  death.b)- a  ratdesnake.  Three 
weeks  after  we  reached  the  frontier,  the  Pawnees 
and  the  Comanches  b^an  a  regular  series  cS  hostili- 
ties on  the  Arkansas  jiail.  killing  men  and  driving 
off  horses.  They  attacked,  without  excqibon,  every 
party,  laige  or  small,  that  passed  during  the  next 
six  months. 

Diamond  Spring,  Rock  Creek.  Elder  Grove,  and 
other  camping-places  besides  wete  passed,  all  in 
quick  succession.  At  Rock  Creek  we  found  a  train 
of  government  provision  wagons  under  the  charge 
of  an  emaoated  old  man  in  his  seventy-first  year. 
Some  resdess  American  devil  had  driven  him  into 
the  wilderness  at  a  time  when  he  should  have  been 
seated  at  his  fireside  with  his  grandchildren  on  his 
kne^  I  am  convinced  that  he  never  returned  :  he 
was  complaining  dial  night  of  a  disease,  the  wasting 
effects  of  which  upon  a  younger  and  stronger  man.  I 
mysdf  had  pro%'ed  from  severe  experience.  Long  ere 
dais,  no  doubt,  the  wolves  have  howled  their  moon- 
I^ht  carnival  over  die  old  man's  attenuated  remains. 

Not  long  after  we  came  to  a  smaD  trail  leading  to 
Fort  Leavenworth,  distant  but  one  day's  journey. 


THE   SETTLEMENTS.  4II 

Tete  Rouge  here  took  leave  of  us.  He  was  anxious 
to  go  to  the  fort  in  order  to  receive  payment  for  his 
valuable  mihtar>-  services.  So  he  and  his  horse 
James,  after  bidding  an  affectionate  farewell,  set 
out  together,  taking  with  them  as  much  provision  as 
they  could  conveniently  carry,  including  a  large 
quantity  of  brown  sugar.  On  a  cheerless,  rainy 
evening  we  came  to  our  last  encamping  ground. 
Some  pigs  belonging  to  a  Shawanoe  farmer  were 
grunting  and  rooting  at  the  edge  of  the  grove. 

' '  I  wonder  how  fresh  pork  tastes  ?' '  murmured 
one  of  the  part}',  and  more  than  one  voice  munnured 
in  response.  The  fiat  went  forth,  "That  pig  must 
die,"  and  a  rifle  was  levelled  forthwith  at  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  plumpest  porker.  Just  then  a  wagon- 
train,  with  some  twenty  Missourians,  came  out  from 
among  the  trees.  The  marksman  suspended  his 
aim,  deeming  it  inexpedient  under  the  circum- 
stances to  consummate  the  deed  of  blood. 

In  the  morning  we  made  our  toilet  as  well  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit,  and  that  is  saying  but 
ven,-  little.  In  spite  of  the  drear)-  rain  of  yesterday, 
there  never  was  a  brighter  and  gayer  autumnal 
morning  than  that  on  which  we  returned  to  the  set- 
tlements. We  were  passing  through  the  countn.-  of 
the  half-civilized  Shaw»inoes.  It  was  a  beautiful 
alternation  of  fertile  plains  and  groves,  whose  foli- 
age was  just  tinged  with  the  hues  of  autumn,  while 
close  beneath  them  rested  the  neat  log-houses  of  the 
Indian  fanners.  Even,-  field  and  meadow  bespoke 
the  exuberant  fertility  of  the  soil.  The  maize 
stood  rustling  in  the  wind,  matured  and  dry,  its 
shining  yellow  ears  thrust  out  between  the  gaping 
husks.  Squashes  and  enormous  yellow  pumpkins 
lay  basking  in  the  sun  in  the  midst  of  their  brown 
and  shrivelled  leaves.  Robins  and  blackbirds  flew 
about  the  fences  ;  and  evervthing,   in  short,   beto- 


412  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

kened  our  near  approach  to  home  and  civilization. 
The  forests  that  border  on  the  Missouri  soon  rose 
before  us,  and  we  entered  the  wide  tract  of  shrub- 
bery- which  forms  their  outskirts.  We  had  passed 
the  same  road  on  our  outward  journey  in  the  spring, 
but  its  aspect  was  totally  changed.  The  young  wild 
apple  trees,  then  tlushed  with  their  fragrant  blos- 
soms, were  now  hung  thickly  with  ruddy  fruit.  Tall 
grass  flourished  by  the  roadside  in  place  of  the 
tender  shoots  just  peeping  from  the  warm  and  oozy 
soil.  The  vines  were  laden  with  dark  purple 
grapes,  and  the  slender  tvvigs  of  the  maple,  then 
tasselled  with  their  clusters  of  small  red  flowers,  now- 
hung  out  a  gorgeous  display  of  leaves  stained  by 
the  frost  with  burning  crimson.  On  ever\'  side  we 
saw  the  tokens  of  maturity  and  decay,  where  all  had 
before  been  fresh  and  beautiful.  \Ve  entered  the 
forest,  and  ourselves  and  our  horses  were  checkered, 
as  we  passed  along,  by  the  bright  spots  of  sunlight 
that  fell  between  the  opening  boughs.  On  either 
side  the  dark,  rich  masses  of  foliage  almost  excluded 
the  sun,  though  here  and  there  its  rays  could  find 
their  way  down,  striking  through  the  broad  leaves 
and  lighting  them  with  a  pure  transparent  green. 
Squirrels  barked  at  us  from  the  trees  ;  coveys  of 
young  partridges  ran  rustling  over  the  leaves  below, 
and  the  golden  oriole,  the  blue-jay,  and  the  flaming 
red-bird  darted  among  the  shadowy  branches.  We 
hailed  these  sights  and  sounds  of  beauty  by  no 
means  with  an  unmingled  pleasure.  Many  and 
powerful  as  were  the  attractions  which  drew  us 
toward  the  settlements,  we  looked  back  even  at 
that  moment  with  an  eager  longing  toward  the 
wilderness  of  prairies  and  mountains  behind  us. 
For  myself,  I  had  suffered  more  that  summer  from 
illness  than  ever  before  in  my  life,  and  yet  to 
this  hour  I  cannot  recall  those  savage  scenes  and 


THE   SETTLEMENTS.  413 

savage  men  without  a  strong  desire  again  to  visit 
them. 

At  length,  for  the  first  time  during  about  half  a 
year,  we  saw  the  roof  of  a  white  man's  dwelling 
between  the  opening  trees.  A  few  moments  after 
we  were  riding  over  the  miserable  log-bridge  that 
leads  into  the  centre  of  Westport.  Westport  had 
beheld  strange  scenes,  but  a  rougher  looking  troop 
than  ours,  with  our  worn  equipments  and  broken- 
down  horses,  was  never  seen  even  there.  We 
passed  the  well-remembered  tavern,  Boone's  gro- 
cery, and  old  Vogle's  dram-shop,  and  encamped  on 
a  meadow  beyond.  Here  we  were  soon  visited  by 
a  number  of  people,  who  came  to  purchase  our 
horses  and  equipage.  This  matter  disposed  of  we 
hired  a  wagon  and  drove  on  to  Kansas  Landmg. 
Here  we  were  again  received  under  the  hospitable 
roof  of  our  old  friend.  Colonel  Chick,  and  seated 
under  his  porch,  we  looked  down  once  more  on  the 
eddies  of  the  Missouri. 

Uelorier  made  his  appearance  in  the  morning, 
strangely  transformed  by  the  assistance  of  a  hat,  a 
coat,  and  a  razor.  His  little  log-house  was  among 
the  woods  not  far  off.  It  seemed  he  had  meditated 
giving  a  ball  on  the  occasion  of  his  return,  and  had 
consulted  Henry  Chatillon  as  to  whether  it  would 
do  to  invite  his  boii7-geois.  Henry  expressed  his 
entire  conviction  that  we  would  not  take  it  amiss, 
and  the  invitation  was  now  proffered  accordingly, 
Delorier  adding  as  a  special  inducement  that  An- 
toine  Lajeunesse  was  to  play  the  fiddle.  We  told 
him  we  would  certainly  come,  but  before  the  even- 
ing arrived  a  steamboat,  which  came  down  from 
Fort  Leavenworth,  prevented  our  being  present 
at  the  expected  festivities.  Delorier  was  on  the 
rock  at  the  landing-place,  waiting  to  take  leave 
of  us. 


414  ^^^    OREGON   TRAIL. 

"Adieu  !  mes  bourgeois,  adieu  !  adieu  I"  he  cried 
oat  as  the  boat  put  off ;  "when  you  go  another  time 
to  de  Rocky  Montagnes  I  will  go  with  you  ;  yes,  I 
will  go !" 

He  accompanied  this  patronizing  assurance  by 
jumping  about,  swinging  his  hat,  and  grinning  from 
ear  to  ear.  As  die  boat  nMinded  a  distant  point, 
the  last  object  that  met  our  eyes  was  Delorier,  still 
lifting  his  hat  and  skipping  about  the  rock.  We 
had  taken  leave  of  Munioe  and  Jim  Gumey  at  West- 
port,  and  Henry  Chatillon  went  down  in  the  boat 
with  us. 

The  passage  to  St.  Louis  occupied  eight  days, 
during  about  a  third  erf*  which  time  we  were  fast 
aground  on  sand-bars.  We  passed  the  steamer 
'  'Amelia, ' '  crowded  ^th  a  roaring  crew  of  disbanded 
volunteers  swearing,  drinMi^.  gambling,  and  fight- 
ing. At  length  one  evening  we  reached  the  crowded 
levee  of  St.  Loins.  R^iairing  to  die  Planters'  House 
we  caused  diligent  search  to  be  made  for  our  trunks, 
which,  after  some  time,  were  discovered  stowed 
away  in  the  &rtfaest  comer  of  the  store-room.  In 
the  morning  we  hardly  recognized  each  <^er;  a 
Crock  of  broadcloth  had  supplanted  the  frock  of 
buckskin ;  well-fitted  pantaloons  took  the  place  of 
the  Indianl^gings.  and  polished  boots  were  substi- 
tuted for  the  gaudy  moccasons. 

After  we  had  been  several  days  at  Sl  Louis  we 
heard  news  c&  Tete  Roi^e.  He  had  contrived  to 
reach  Fort  Leavenworth,  whoe  he  had  found  the 
paymaster  and  recaved  his  money.  As  a  boat  was 
just  ready  to  start  for  St.  Loms  he  went  on  board 
and  engaged  his  passage.  This  done,  he  imme- 
diatdy  got  drunk  on  shore,  and  the  boat  went  off 
widiout  him.  It  was  some  days  b^ore  another 
oppcHtunity  occurred,  and  meanwhile  the  sutler's 
stores  fijmished  Mm  with  abundant  means  of  keep- 


THE   SETTLEMENTS.  415 

ing  up  his  spirits.  Another  steamboat  came  at  last, 
the  clerk  of  which  happened  to  be  a  friend  of  his, 
and  by  the  advice  of  some  charitable  person  on 
shore,  he  persuaded  Tete  Rouge  to  remain  on  board, 
intending  to  detain  him  there  until  the  boat  should 
leave  the  fort.  At  first  Tete  Rouge  was  well  con- 
tented with  this  artangement,  but  on  applying  for  a 
dram,  the  bar-keeper,  at  the  clerk's  instigation, 
refused  to  let  him  have  it.  Finding  them  both  in- 
flexible in  spite  of  his  entreaties,  he  became  des- 
perate and  made  his  escape  from  the  boat.  The 
clerk  found  him,  after  a  long  search,  in  one  of  the 
barracks  ;  a  circle  of  dragoons  stood  contemplating 
him  as  he  lay  on  the  floor,  maudlin  drunk  and 
crying  dismally.  With  the  help  of  one  of  them  the 
clerk  pushed  him  on  board,  and  our  informant,  who 
came  down  in  the  same  boat,  declares  that  he  re- 
mained in  great  despondency  during  the  whole  pas- 
sage. As  we  left  St.  Louis  soon  after  his  arrival, 
we  did  not  see  the  worthless,  good-natured  little 
vagabond  again. 

On  the  evening  before  our  departure,  Henry 
Chatillon  came  to  our  rooms  at  the  Planters'  House 
to  take  leave  of  us.  No  one  who  met  him  in  the 
streets  of  St.  Louis  would  have  taken  him  for  a 
hunter  fresh  from  the  Rocky  Mountains.  He  was 
very  neatly  and  simply  dressed  in  a  suit  of  dark 
cloth  ;  for  although  since  his  sixteenth  year  he  had 
scarcely  been  for  a  month  together  among  the  abodes 
of  men,  he  had  a  native  good  taste  and  a  sense  of 
propriety  which  always  led  him  to  pay  great  attention 
to  his  personal  appearance.  His  tall  athletic  figure, 
with  its  easy  flexible  motions,  appeared  to  advantage 
in  his  present  dress  ;  and  his  fine  face,  though  rough- 
ened by  a  thousand  storms,  was  not  at  all  out  of 
keeping  with  it.  We  took  leave  of  him  with  much 
regret  ;    and   unless  his    changing    features,  as    he 


4l6  THE    OREGON  TRAIL. 

shook  us  by  the  hand,  behed  him,  the  feeling  on 
his  part  was  no  less  than  on  ours.*  Shaw  had  given 
him  a  horse  at  Westport.  My  rifle,  which  he  had 
always  been  fond  of  using,  as  it  was  an  excellent 
piece,  much  better  than  his  own,  is  now  in  his 
hands,  and  perhaps  at  this  moment  its  sharp  voice 
is  startling  the  echoes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  On 
the  next  morning  we  left  town,  and  after  a  fortnight 
of  railroads  and  steamboats  we  saw  once  more  the 
familiar  features  of  home. 

*  I  cannot  take  leave  of  the  reader  without  adding  a  word 
of  the  guide  who  had  served  us  throughout  with  such  zeal 
and  fidelity.  Indeed,  his  services  had  far  surpassed  the  terms 
of  his  engagement.  Yet,  whoever  had  been  his  employers, 
or  to  whatever  closeness  of  intercourse  they  might  have 
thought  fit  to  admit  him,  he  would  never  have  changed  the 
bearing  of  quiet  respect  which  he  considered  due  to  his  bour- 
geois. If  sincerity  and  honor,  a  boundless  generosity  of 
spirit,  a  delicate  regard  to  the  feelings  of  others,  and  a  nice 
perception  of  what  was  due  to  them,  are  the  essential  char- 
acteristics of  a  gentleman,  then  Henry  Chatillon  deserves  the 
title.  He  could  not  write  his  own  name,  and  he  had  spent 
his  life  among  savages.  In  him  sprang  up  spontaneously 
those  qualities  which  all  the  refinements  of  life  and  inter- 
course with  the  highest  and  best  of  the  better  part  of  man- 
kind fail  to  awaken  in  the  brutish  nature  of  some  men.  In 
spite  of  his  bloody  calling,  Henry  was  always  humane  and 
merciful;  he  was  gentle  as  a  woman,  though  braver  than  a 
lion.  He  acted  aright  from  the  free  impulses  of  his  large 
and  generous  nature.  A  certain  species  of  selfishness  is 
essential  to  the  sternne.ss  of  spirit  which  bears  down  opposi- 
tion and  subjects  the  will  of  others  to  its  own.  Henry's 
character  was  of  an  opposite  stamp.  His  easy  good-nature 
almost  amounted  to  weakness ;  yet,  while  it  imfitted  him  for 
any  position  of  command,  it  secured  the  esteem  and  good- 
will of  all  those  who  were  not  jealous  of  his  skill  and  repu- 
tation. 

THfi  END.  ''- 


«.^^ 


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